Reversing the Stitches
by Digital-Dragon-Master
Summary: COMPLETE  Everyone has free will. What if Ryan Hunter had exhibited his and not gone hiking that fateful day? Alternate ending to Common Thread. Four part story, epilogue up. Details inside.
1. Casting On

Author's Notes: Okay, now I really DO have to be shot for concentrating on ANOTHER thing other than my outstanding stories, and this not even being another update for my latest Joan of Arcadia story. I just really couldn't help it.

Those in the Joan of Arcadia fandom don't know it, but I am a total angst WHORE. I love reading and writing angst. Truthfully, I've gotten better at reading and writing other subjects. Years ago, I would spend my free time crying my eyes out with the angsty-est stories I could find. To quote Adam from the episode "Back to the Garden", "I'm better now". Still, that doesn't stop me from writing angst. My friend Sara (the one who got me into this series) told me when we finished watching "Trial and Error" that I would have a field day with a JoA angst fic.

Now, while she's right in that way, I don't think I will EVER write something immediately after "Trial and Error" because I am too much of a Joan(Jane)/Adam shipper. I'm pathetic, I know, but the episode is just painful to watch. Despite all of this, I LOVE Adam to death, almost to the point of him being my favorite character. This is not a good thing, because for some reason I tend to torture the characters I love. So, you can all put two and two together here.

This story is going to be an alternate ending to "Common Thread", one that doesn't end as happily as the one in the series. Obvious spoilers up 'til most way through "Common Thread", but I don't think that matters to anyone reading Joan of Arcadia fanfiction (unless you're like me and started watching off DVDs). This story was originally supposed to be super angsty, but as I went on, I felt if I left it where I was originally planning to, it wouldn't do justice to this piece as literature. All titles have some reference to knitting. I know nothing about knitting, so I used wikipedia (and the basic knowledge from "Common Thread").

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Joan of Arcadia. I would really like to own Adam, even though he technically belongs to Joan. … Heck, I'd even like to huggle him. How come there aren't more boys like Adam out there (without the … cheating thing, of course…)?

* * *

**Reversing the Stitches**

Casting On

Joan had never hated the rain more than she did right now. In fact, she possibly had never hated God more than she did right now, but there were a lot of times that could've been used to counteract that idea. She was currently in a heated argument with the Almighty about the recent disappearance of Adam.

When the two had begun to mend their friendship, Joan started to think everything was going to be alright. However, Adam apparently thought this meant their relationship could be mended just like that too. He even went as far as fishing for some sympathy after being fired for a decrease in his work quality when Joan knew the reason was because he was too busy sleeping with Bonnie. She snapped at him that it was _his _fault, and she wasn't going to feel sorry for him. Too late she realized she'd been too harsh, and when Grace informed her hours later that no one could find Adam, the Arcadia Police Department went looking for him, only to find his camper near an old mountain trail and no sign of the missing boy. The heavy storm prevented anyone from looking, and they were forced to wait.

In the midst of all this, God encouraged still Joan to knit, and she had finally had enough.

"Am I ever going to see him again?" She demanded as tears threatened to overtake her. She anticipated a cryptic God-answer, so she added, "I don't mean in another form. I mean here, now."

God responded just as Joan had feared nevertheless. "You feel how painful it is to try and sever a connection, but they can never really be broken. All of creation shares a common thread, like your scarf. How you use that thread becomes your pattern of life."

Joan could barely breathe as she tried to comprehend what He was saying. "So what's happening now," she began in a shaky voice, "is it because... I-I knitted my life wrong?" She was starting to get desperate, wondering what she did to deserve this. "I believe in You. I've seen the ripples. I've seen how it changes people's lives. Even when I didn't see, I trusted You."

"And you've developed strength and faith and understanding," God responded, dodging Joan's unasked question. "New challenges are going to make you even stronger."

"For what?" His messenger asked exasperatedly. "Huh, for what? How much stronger do I have to be?" God didn't answer, and for a second Joan thought she saw a tinge of regret in His eyes, but then he turned away and began walking back out into the rain, not even giving her His signature backwards wave. "Hey! Hey, come back! I'm not done talking to You!" Joan knew it was no use. She couldn't stop God.

She slumped against the railing, just about defeated. All that, and she still didn't know if she'd ever see Adam again. What if he died? What if he killed himself, and it was all because she refused to forgive him? She could never live with herself if-

Joan's head whipped around as a distant voice seemed to call out to her. She could've sworn she heard a usually quiet voice yell, "Jane" and her breath caught in her throat.

"A-Adam?" Her voice was barely a whisper, not even audible above the storm. She turned her full attention to the woods, waiting for him to come running out, yelling her name. She would run and embrace him and never, ever let go.

But Adam did not come. She waited for what seemed like a life time, and still Adam did not come.

Joan picked up her torn scarf, a casualty of her resentment of the Lord, and walked back inside. Hopefully the heavy rain would disguise the new tears that were running down her cheeks.

* * *

The rain didn't let up until hours later. If it were a normal day, Joan would probably be waking up for school. The rescue teams began to go out and search again, and Will went with them, leaving only Joan, Grace and Carl Rove, Adam's father, in the mountain ranger's hut.

Joan hadn't slept at all that night, no matter how inviting it would seem. Her ears were focused on listening for Adam's voice again. She _knew _she'd heard something before, and it just had to have been Adam. Maybe if she could hear it again, they could find him. She spent her time half-heartedly knitting her scarf. It probably wasn't turning out good at all, but Joan could really care less.

She was finally dozing off when she heard the yelling outside.

"Someone call an ambulance, now!" Her father. He was yelling so frantically, Joan could only assume the worst.

She and Grace leaped up from the chairs they'd been sitting in. Mr. Rove stood up slower, all color leaving his face. The ranger was already at the phone, so the girls could go out and see what was going on. Joan ran out to see her father and a few members of the rescue team running down from the woods as fast as they could.

"Dad, what's going on?" Joan asked fearfully. Will refused to look his daughter in the eyes, and instead pushed past her to go and talk to the ranger. He was most likely going to give the paramedics the details. Joan tried again, this time with a hint of anger in her voice. "Dad, please, answer me!"

She felt a forceful yet gentle hand on her arm and turned to see Grace shaking her head. _We'll find out soon enough,_ her eyes seemed to say. _They need to get help here first. That's all that matters._

Joan sniffed as her eyes welled up again. She nodded nonetheless and walked out to the same place she'd stood the night before when she chewed out God.

It didn't take the ambulance long to get up to the range, and several people immediately ran out with a stretcher. Will and the rescue team members were waiting for them, and they started to lead them out into the wilderness when they arrived. They got as far as a muddy ditch and then stopped.

"We can't get through," one of the men explained. "We'll have too hard of a time keeping him steady if we strap him on the other side."

The small group then began to call out into the forest, making their way deeper in as they did. The paramedics started yelling out as well, but not to inform the others that they needed to get closer. Joan had taken off after her father and the men, despite Grace's insisting that she stay out of the way. Grace herself was following Joan, if only to get her to come back.

"Girardi, chill! Come on!" Grace's words didn't even reach Joan. She was too determined.

_Don't let him be dead. _Please_ don't let him be dead. I'll do whatever you want me to if you just _help _him. _Joan's mind raced as she pushed up over the other side of the muddy ditch. She ran faster than she ever thought she could, keeping the team in her sight and weaving past fallen trees and branches. The group trudged over a large hill, and Joan had a strong feeling at the bottom of it would be Adam. She pushed her aching legs, dimly aware that Grace had nearly caught up with her. Up to the top of the hill. Up, higher and higher…

Grace grabbed her arm just as she reached the top. "What are you thinking, Girardi?! Getting involved now won't help any-" She broke off suddenly, noticing Joan's horror-struck gaze. Her eyes followed the trail and she saw: "Oh, my-"

"_ADAM!_"

He lay eagle-spread at the bottom of the hill, just beneath a cliff-like structure (_how tall? Sixteen feet? More? Joan was never good at judging distance_) . His left leg was twisted at nearly forty-five degree angle, and his face was covered in various scratches. There was a deep gash running down his right arm, one that cut through the gray hoodie he was wearing. What horrified Joan the most was the sickening amount of blood around his head, the blood that stained the rocks around it- the blood that ran into the muddy stream he was in.

Joan's scream drew the attention of nearly the entire team and her father. Will rushed up to the top of the hill and grabbed his daughter, ushering her away from the revolting sight. Grace continued to stare with wide un-Grace-like eyes until a man also pulled her away. She oddly went a lot more cooperatively than Joan did; she was most likely in shock. Joan, meanwhile, was struggling in her father's grasp, pulling and yelling, trying to get to Adam.

"No! No, let go! Let go, I want to see him!" She cried hysterically. "Let me see him!" Her protests broke down into sobs and she would've surely collapsed to the ground if her father hadn't been holding her.

She wept into her father's chest, vaguely aware that the rescue team was discreetly caring Adam past her as best they could. It was only then that she noticed how pale his face was, and that prompted a new set of tears that sapped her energy completely. Will lifted his daughter into his arms bridal style, letting her grip his shirt and hide her face in it. He whispered soft words in her ears, ones that she couldn't understand. She knew they were walking, but nothing else. She couldn't even tell when they went down into the muddy ditch. She murmured soft incoherent phrases into Will's chest, ones like, "how could You let this happen," and "it's all my fault".

She knew when they had reached the ranger's house again, because she heard Mr. Rove's heartbreaking howl, and her father told her he had to put her down. Joan stumbled as he set her on her legs. She licked her oddly dry lips and found her mouth was dry too. She glanced around frantically, looking for Adam. She spotted Grace standing a few feet to her right; she had apparently arrived back before she had, but she didn't have the frightened expression that Joan did. On the contrary, she seemed to have no expression at all. Her face was tear-free, but it almost seemed like she was broken, unable to say or do anything. Joan wanted to say something to make her feel better, but she needed something like that herself.

She finally spied Adam over by the ambulance. He was already strapped to the stretcher and the men were moving him into the back of the medical truck, careful of his leg and head. She took a few uneasy steps forward and five raspy words were ripped from her throat. "I want to go with." Somehow, her voice had been loud enough to get the attention of the two paramedics moving Adam.

"We can't have anyone in the back," one of the responded, shaking his head. "We need as much room as we can to work on him."

_Work on him._ The words echoed in Joan's head and she almost collapsed again, catching herself as she staggered. _It's like Kevin's accident again._

Will gestured his daughter and Grace over to the lead squad car after the ambulance left. "We'll follow them there. I'll contact your parents as soon as I tell my wife," he added the last part to Grace, as her father and mother were probably awaiting news regarding Adam, as well as Helen, Joan's mother.

Grace nodded, though she didn't seem to take it in. She was still tuning the world out. Joan began to fall into that state as well as they drove behind the ambulance. The girls sat in the back and Mr. Rove road up front with Will. He was crying into his hands, muttering things like Joan had, probably about how he could lose Adam as well as his wife. Joan could hear her mother's distressed shriek when her father grimly informed her of the situation. Her mind drew away from the rest of the conversation and she turned her attention to the world outside the car as Grace was. She couldn't get out a single lucid thought except for one silent, repeated prayer:

_Save him, please. Save him and I'll never ask you anything again. Just save him._

* * *

Joan was surprised to see that her mother and Luke and Kevin (with Lily in tow) and the Polanskis were already at the hospital by the time they arrived, but it was to be expected. There was really nothing they could all do but sit and wait, and Joan sunk deep into a chair. Luke approached Grace tentatively with an extremely guilty expression on his face; maybe Joan would ask about it later. He held out his arms slowly and Grace all but fell into them, gripping him hard for support. Luke was shocked for a second, but then he shook it off, holding her close and not saying a word.

Joan's arms shook anxiously as she watched for the men she saw putting Adam in the ambulance. _Working on him,_ her mind reminded her nastily. The thought made her sick to her stomach and she wouldn't be surprised if she looked green. She wondered if this was how Adam had felt nearly a year earlier when she had come down with Lyme Disease. _No,_ she decided. _He at least knew I would live._

She finally spotted someone who could (hopefully) give her answers, the dark-skinned Doctor God. He was standing off to the side, writing something on a clipboard, and Joan stood and walked over to him. No one really took it as something odd; after all, she was probably just asking if he had any information about Adam.

"How could you let this happen?" She hissed under her breath when she reached him. "I thought you always had a plan for everything!"

God raised his eyes and looked at her. "I do, Joan."

"So what," she demanded, a hitch in her voice, "he's like Judith? Meant to die?"

God once again dodged a question, stating, "No one is meant to die. When it is their time, they go."

"But it's not his time!" Joan was having a hard time keeping her voice down as familiar tears began to work their way out of her eyes. "I-I still have to talk to him! He can't die! Not yet!"

God stayed silent for a moment and then continued in an almost remorseful voice. "There were things I had not foreseen. I thought I could find a solution for your problem, but free will-"

"To hell with free will!" Joan cut in, drawing a bit of attention from other people in the waiting room. She didn't understand what He meant completely, but at the moment it didn't matter. "I don't care if You have to strip it all away- just save him! I know You don't want to give miracles, but… but _please_. I've done things for You; I've helped You. I know you don't like miracles, but that all has to count for something…" Her voice switched from the desperate tone it was taking on back to the angry one. "And what do You mean 'things you had not foreseen'?! You see everything! You can't not foresee something!"

The people around her were starting to look over at the two, though they couldn't necessarily hear what was going on.

"Joan, please, you must calm down," God urged softly. "People are-"

"'Calm down?' Calm down?!" Joan cried, taking a step closer to God. "How can I clam down?! Is this another thing I have to do, something else to prepare myself?!" Her mother and father were starting to get up and walk over, though they still couldn't hear what Joan was saying. At this point, Joan was nearly clutching the front of God's shirt. "You can fix him, so just do it! Fix him!"

Helen pulled her daughter away from the unknown-Almighty gently. "Joan, sweetie, leave the man alone. This isn't his fault."

"Yes it is!" Joan yelled, her eyes not leaving God's face. "It's all His fault!"

Helen firmly but tenderly pulled her daughter back to the other waiting loved ones while Will murmured an apology to the doctor.

"Sorry. She's going through a rough time. Her friend's in here," he explained briefly.

God continued to stare after Joan, just as she refused to take her eyes off him. "No. It's alright. I'm used to this." He then turned and walked away as Joan was forced back into her chair. She curled herself up and refused to look at anyone. She didn't even want to pray anymore.

* * *

The sun was already beginning its descent when the doctors had finished 'working on' Adam. Mr. Rove and Helen got to him first, with Joan a few hesitant steps behind them. Grace stood furthest back, her white-knuckled hand gripping Luke's for comfort. The question was on everyone's lips, but no one was brave enough to ask it.

"He'll live," the doctor confirmed, lifting a large weight from everyone's shoulders. "But we're still unsure of how the head trauma will affect him. It's likely that he will have severe amnesia, but we don't know how far back it will go."

"Amnesia?" Joan breathed, her mouth suddenly dry again.

The doctor nodded grimly. "It's a miracle he lived at all."

_Miracle. _Joan half-stumbled back into her chair. When she had asked the Almighty, she somehow hadn't thought this would amount to a miracle.

"But he'll live?" Echoed Mr. Rove's apprehensive voice. "He's not going to-?"

"No," the doctor confirmed distantly. "It wasn't looking very good for awhile, and he'll be out for a few days, but he'll live."

Joan still sat frozen in her chair. She heard murmurs of relief and near happiness, the doctor's musing that there should've been much more wrong with Adam, and even a shaky threat of bodily harm from Grace, the first thing she'd said since they'd found him. She realized she should've been much happier. Adam was going to live; so what if he didn't remember everything? _Because he might not remember _you the nasty little voice in her head informed her. Yeah, that was it. Did the doctor mention if the memory loss was temporary? He didn't, did he? Did that mean whatever Adam forgot was permanently forgotten? How did a boy with a photographic memory get amnesia, anyway?

She nearly hoped he just forgot the last four weeks; she knew she'd pretend they didn't happen if he would be alright, or at least she'd try. Somehow, though, it seemed like she wasn't going to be that lucky. She must've done something God hadn't wanted, or else this wouldn't have happened.

"I hate to bring this up, Mr. Rove, but we'll need to start discussing payment…" The doctor's voice entered Joan's ears clearly, and she snapped back to attention.

"Payment?" Joan snapped, glaring at the doctor. "He's not even awake yet, and you start talking about payment? How heartless are you?"

"Joan," Helen started warningly.

"No!" Joan responded, standing up and looking around at the people surrounding her. "No, this isn't right! They should at least give us a … a bit more times before asking to pay and … and …" Joan was losing her train of thought and fast. She spun quickly to Grace, looking at her pleadingly. "Grace! You agree with me, right? Isn't there some anarchist law against this sort of thing?"

Grace met Joan with a hard stare. "Adam's alive, Joan." Grace said Adam. Not 'Rove', but 'Adam'. And she called her Joan. That was all she needed to say.

Joan glanced at the people around her. "I-I can't…" She said in a low voice, mostly to herself. "I can't…"

She then turned on heel and ran. She could hear her mother's shocked yell to come back and her father's reassurance that she only needed some time, but she didn't stop. She weaved her way through the hospital, past nurses and doctors and patients, trying to push back all the bad memories that were connected to it. She hated the hospital. A familiar cute boy leaning against a back wall caught Joan's eye and she stopped. She hated God more. She stomped over to Him, realizing for a moment that the hallway they were in was strangely empty.

Cute Boy God spoke before Joan could say anything. "That man was just doing his job, Joan. You should be thankful, especially since he saved Adam."

Joan half-snorted. "Oh, please. We both know he had nothing to do with it. _You_ saved Adam, but why You had to be so cruel, I don't know."

"I didn't do anything," God answered. He then continued, "Why aren't you waiting with your family and friends? You never know when Adam will wake up."

"What's the point?" Joan asked, suppressing a quick-rising sob. "He's got amnesia, remember? He won't miss me. They said he'd be out for a few days anyway."

God fixed Joan with a knowing look (what other kind did He/She/It have, Joan mused inwardly). "Just because something's different, doesn't mean you two aren't connected. Connections exist long before we're aware of them. Always will."

Joan blinked back a tear and took a shuddering breath. "What does that mean? That Adam won't remember me?" God stayed silent. "Come on, I deserve at least this much, right?"

God sighed. "He will be at a time … before you entered his life."

Joan couldn't help it anymore. She let herself cry again and let out a humorless laugh. "Great. That's a yes." She hugged herself in an attempt to get the horrible thought of Adam not knowing who she was out of her mind. "So then why should I see him? He won't be Adam, at least not the Adam I know."

Yet another knowing look came Joan's way, but a hint of sympathy arrived with it. "Adam will always be Adam, just like Joan will always be Joan," He then added with a slight smirk, "or Jane to him." He put a comforting hand on Joan's shoulder. "He's just lost for a little while. It's up to you to find him, and to bring him back."

Joan stared at Him with an odd sort of relief. "'A little while'? Does that mean-?"

Cute Boy God lifted his hand from Joan's arm and sent her an almost trademark smile. Somehow, that said everything she needed to know. He then turned and left Joan with her thoughts.

* * *

The family and friends of Joan Girardi were amazed to see her do a complete personality flip when she returned to the waiting area, promptly apologizing to the now flabbergasted doctor for being to harsh, and thanking him for saving Adam's life. She casually inquired about pay, to which he responded, "It's been taken care of," and then hurried off, murmuring about bi-polar teenagers. When Joan asked her parents who paid the fee, they replied a young man who overheard the conversation had, out of the goodness of his heart, paid the entire bill that Adam's father was being offered. The man told them his name was Ryan Hunter.

Joan didn't really care _what_ his name was. He made it so the not-so-rich Mr. Rove didn't have to pay for Adam's treatment, and that was good enough for her. Oddly, the enigmatic Ryan Hunter disappeared shortly after be paid the charge. A brief shadow of doubt crossed Joan's mind, but she decided not to think much of it.

Joan noticed a few minutes later that Mr. Rove wasn't with the small group anymore. "Um, where's Adam's dad?" She inquired with a puzzled tone.

"He's in with Adam," Helen explained. "They're allowing visitors, but only two at a time. We thought it was appropriate if he went in alone."

"Oh," Joan replied awkwardly. Even though she had to see him eventually, she didn't think she could bear to look at Adam quite yet.

"Would you like to go see him next?" Helen asked her daughter hesitantly.

Joan shook her head. "N-no. No, I'll go last. I don't mind."

Grace, who was sitting opposite her, gave Joan a suspicious look. "Okay, Girardi, what's up?"

Girardi again. Not 'Joan'. Joan nearly smiled. Grace was getting back to normal, then. "Oh, nothing," said Joan, looking down at her bag absent-mindedly. "I just … need a little time before seeing him." She withdrew the nearly ruined scarf from her bag and stared at it for a moment. Maybe she could still salvage it if she focused. She began her knitting focusing on each little stitch.

Grace wasn't going to let up that easily though. "Less than ten minutes ago you were pissed as hell, and now you're all happy-cheery?" She narrowed her eyes. "You going crazy again?"

Luke, who was sitting next to Grace, opened his mouth to advise against mentioning the 'crazy' tagline, as Joan obvious still had issues with the Lyme Disease spell. Joan, however, laughed slightly. "No, not crazy." That was all she said on the subject. Her family eyed her oddly, and she swore she could hear Kevin murmur to Lily, "Is she sure about that?" only to get a hissing shush, but she could care less what they all thought for some reason.

Who would've thought a meeting with the version of God she was most comfortable hating would've made her so happy?

* * *

Joan's overly-good mood had sunk away by the time it was her turn to see Adam, leaving only nervousness and a hint of fear. She knew his memory loss wasn't permanent, and that he wasn't even going to be awake for a few days, but the idea of being in a room with a boy who didn't remember her after nearly two years of history was nerve wrecking.

Nerve wrecking. _Now _she knew how Adam had felt last year.

She opened the door cautiously, playing with the stray ends of her work-in-progress scarf as she did. The room was smaller than the one Judith had been in (_had died in_) a few months before, but small than the one she herself had stayed a year before. There was a small couch, much like her old hospital room, near the door, and a chair next to the bed. She tentatively placed her scarf and bag on the couch and took a seat next to Adam, scanning him up and down.

His face had regained most of its color, which was good, but the bandages that wrapped his forehead like a beanie reminded Joan of how close she had been to losing him. She peered over to see his right arm, and was relieved to see it was heavily bandaged. She didn't think she could handle seeing that sickly gash again. Her eyes traveled down to Adam's left leg. It was elevated in a cast, but it seemed to be on the right angle again. She shuddered upon remembering discovering him, his oddly twisted leg…

She shook her head to drive away the images. She wasn't here to dwell on _that_.

Spying a few tufts of hair free of the bandage, Joan began to absentmindedly play with them, being careful not to touch the bandages for fear of hurting him.

"Hi, Adam," She began in an uneasy voice. "You scared all of us, you know?" She obviously didn't get a response. "Probably scared yourself too, didn't you? You didn't go out there to… Do that." She swallowed, remembering his family history with suicide. "I mean, if you had, it would've been … quicker, right?" No answer, so Joan agreed with herself. "Right."

She fell silent for a few seconds, glancing in an overly cautious fashion. "I… I prayed for you. I told Him He'd better let you live, or else." A bit of a lie there. She'd pleaded for his life instead of threatened. "Remember when I told you I talked to Him last year? Well… I still do. You probably figured that, though. You're smart." A memory of him and Bonnie burned through to the top of her mind, and her eyes burned with tears again. "At least you're normally smart… B-but I'll-I'll forgive you for that. I sh-shouldn't have been so harsh yesterday, and I'm s-sorry. I never wanted you to get yourself hurt." She bit her lip and clenched the hand that still remained in her lap. "But you _are_ hurt. And … and you don't remember me." She breathe deeply, containing the tears that threatened to fall. "But He also told me I can help you. S-so I'm not going to leave you here alone. When you wake up… I'll be here waiting for you." She brushed her hand across Adam's bandaged forehead carefully, and then stood up, snatching her knitting from the couch and taking her spot next to his bed again.

And she continued to re-stitch the scarf, stitch by stitch.

* * *

Joan never found out how her mom had convinced Mr. Price to let her skip school to stay with Adam. The deal supposedly went that Joan could miss school until Adam woke up, so he wouldn't be alone when it happened, and then she had to come back. Mr. Rove would've been the one to stay with his son, but life didn't stand still, so he had to go back to work to make sure Adam still had a house to come home to. All Joan knew was that she was able to stay with Adam, and that was all that mattered. A call to Sammy explaining the situation had gotten her out of work, though with a bit of pleading. A friend in the hospital qualified for some off-time. Luke and Grace always dropped off Joan's homework after school, and they used that as their visiting time as well, bringing along Glynis and Friedman once or twice.

They would then talk to Adam while Joan did her work, or share memories about him. Maybe hearing so much about what he didn't remember would help speed up the process of getting his memories back. Joan hadn't figured out a way to tell her friends that she knew he wouldn't remember her, so she couldn't drive away their encouraging words when she lamented about having to explain who she was.

Whenever Mr. Rove came to visit Adam, Joan pulled out of the room, working on her homework or scarf, the latter only if she'd finished the first. Her father had worked his way around the visiting hours for her and Grace somehow – he only told them that they were like family for Adam, and thus they could stay – so more often than not Joan "lost track of time" and fell asleep next to Adam's bed. After four days of nervous work, the scarf was finished and she lost something to preoccupy her. She knew she could've finished it sooner, but the sight of Adam's prone form always slowed her down.

A long week head nearly passed and Joan's already low spirits were beginning to fall. If this went on much longer, Mr. Price probably wouldn't let her stay out of school. Then she would have to argue to stay with Adam, because there was no way she was leaving him alone, not now. She was longing to hear Adam say something – anything – and it was starting to drive her crazy.

She was fully aware that it was very late (or early depending on one's perspective), but she refused to go home, just incase he woke up that night. She could always pull the "I lost track of time" card again and her family wouldn't mind. She was currently amusing herself by studying Adam's left hand, careful of the IV that had yet to be removed (she wished they would just take it out already if they knew he was going to live – it gave her the creeps).

Joan discovered she liked feeling over Adam's hand. She enjoyed discovering exactly where the various grooves and nooks that had been worked in by countless hours of artwork. Back when they were together, she would sometimes feel these spots when he would hold her hand, or wipe away the inevitable tears. Now, she liked finding out exactly where they were, and some times trying to place when she'd felt them before, or if they were knew. A part of her mind seemed to think it wasn't healthy for a girl to be playing with her ex-boyfriend's hand and studying it so intensely, but this was also the part of her mind that accepted she'd been hallucinating when she was diagnosed with Lyme Disease, so she tended to ignore it now.

Either Joan was more tired than she felt, or it was later (or earlier) than she thought, or maybe it was some distorted combination of the two, because she suddenly found herself face down in Adam's sheets, her hair billowing around her head and her hands still wrapped around his, while the part of her mind that she liked took her back to a time where boys didn't cheat and girls didn't lose their tempers and she was still _Jane_.

* * *

_Desperation. Fear. Water. Too much water. Climb. Climb. Climb. Slick. Sound, sound, rolling sound. Fear. Realization. Move! Too late! Slick, slip, grasp. Pain! Arm, hurt, pain! Grab, clutch, pain. Breath. Breath. Sound… Sound? Sound! Fear, desperation, move!_

_Slip._

_Fall._

_Fear._

**Jane**

_And silence. _

_Voices… One voice. Voice. Heaven. Guilt. Love._

_God?_

_**LIGHT!**_

Adam Rove was surprised when the first thing he felt was pain. It came from his head, and at first it was first sharp and sudden, then it began to fade. Pain also emitted from his right arm, but that was just about ignorable. His leg – he was too tired to figure out which one – felt weird. It didn't hurt, necessarily, but something felt off about it.

His left hand also felt odd, but this was a good odd. Something felt … right.

So, curious about the pain and the odd and the right, Adam Rove opened his eyes. He had to do so slowly, because they felt so heavy, like they hadn't been used in a long time. He blinked away the heavy feeling and glanced to his left hand first to find a girl attached to it. This wasn't any normal girl, though. The plain room he was in seemed even plainer in comparison with her. Her face was hidden beneath waves of hair, and she appeared to be sleeping, and so serene. And yet…

She was glowing.

Light that came from the far side of the room caught her perfectly, shining down and making her glow. She seemed so heavenly and perfect.

That was when Adam remembered a voice. He didn't know what it was saying, only that it was divine and gentle. Somehow, he knew it saved him, but from what he wasn't sure. _An angel._ His mother had always told him his artwork was so beautiful he must've talked to angels; maybe one was finally talking to him.

His hand unconsciously twitched, and the girl began to stir. Her head lifted and Adam could see a ghost of a smile on her lips and a sad realization in her eyes. She'd nearly sat up completely before she realized he was awake, and she blinked at him oddly.

"Adam?" She asked groggily, removing her hands from his to rub her eyes. Adam's blissful feeling suddenly declined for some reason.

"Um, cha," he responded timidly. "That's me. Where … am I?"

The sadness returned to the girl's eyes for a moment before she answered. "At the Arcadia hospital. You've been asleep for a long time." She had pretty eyes.

"Asleep?" He questioned.

"You got hurt," replied the girl, speaking in a choppy sort of response. "Pretty bad. While hiking. A week ago. You've been asleep since." She suddenly seemed to light up and vigorously asked, "Adam, what's the last thing you remember?"

The question confused him, but for some reason Adam thought he could trust the girl, so he thought back. "Um…" He recalled a celebration he didn't really take part in, a dull sense of relief, and Grace's snarky remarks during a long, boring speech. "The end of freshmen year. Everything after's really hazy." How come he knew there was something after?

The girl-who-looked-heavenly frowned and seemed to visibly darken. Her eyes were suddenly sad again, and Adam didn't like that he kept making them like that. "Oh." She paused for a moment, biting her lip and furrowing her brow while she tried to think of her next words. For some reason, Adam seemed to notice these things. "Um, Adam, the doctors say you … you have head trauma and, uh, amnesia."

Adam blinked indistinctly. "Amnesia?"

The girl nodded uneasily. "Freshmen year ended almost two years ago."

_Now _Adam was sure he was awake. "What?!" He sat up suddenly and for a second, he could see that his left leg was elevated and in a cast, but then a white light blinded him as a sharp pain shot from his head to his toes.

"Adam!" The girl stood up suddenly and eased him onto his back. When he could see clearly again, she was standing over him with a scolding glare. "You shouldn't do that. I _told_ you, you were hurt badly; sudden movements aren't a good idea."

"Right," Adam winced. "Sorry."

The girl disappeared, but she returned a few moments later with a small paper cup filled with water. "It's from the cooler outside," she explained as she handed it to him. He began to reach up with his right arm, but the girl shook her head. "Left arm." Adam looked at his right to realize it was bandaged up. How bad he was hurt was finally starting to sink in.

He took the water from her and acknowledged just how thirsty he was. He gulped down the cup in one swallow, barely savoring the taste. Somehow, it still made him feel better. "Thanks," he breathed, wiping a drop of the remaining water from his lip.

"N-no problem," the girl flushed for a second, but then she sat back in her chair. "Everyone'll be so glad to know you're awake."

"Everyone?" Adam echoed.

A nod. "Your dad and Grace and my family and your other friends," she confirmed in a bit of a rush. "We've all been very worried about you, but I'll have to call them later, because they're all at work or school or something." Adam nodded in understanding, though everything was still a little confusing for him. "Until then, I'll look after you."

"Th-thanks," Adam stammered. He was surprised she was spending so much time on him. He glanced away in shame for a moment, and then asked, "So … who are you?"

The girl swallowed, and for the first time Adam noticed her eyes weren't only sad but especially bright for some reason. "I'm Jo – " She cut herself off and then gave him a watery smile. "You can call me Jane."

**End of Act I**

* * *

Author's Notes: You'll notice I used 'Act' instead of chapter. Seemed to work better, because this didn't feel like a chapter, for some reason. And yeah, you'll also see that it says 'Act I', meaning there's more. In fact, nearly this entire thing is written out all safe on my computer. You're just getting this first act a week after I finished it.

You're all very lucky, because when I originally thought up this idea, the last scene where Adam woke up WAS the last scene, and this was a one-shot. It was all much shorter in my mind, with God's reassurance to Joan being only a short section before Adam waking up, and Adam basically only asking Joan who she was. Hope you all caught the symbolism there. If not … you and I haven't been watching the same series. :P

I am not in any way a certified doctor or something of that sort, so again, anything medical here is from wikipedia. If anyone has some information that could make this more accurate (i.e. how far a human can fall without dying, medical terms, ect.), then please tell me.

So, there you go. The next act will be out in a week and the next after that. There will be four acts in total, each with a week of waiting in between, like the series. If I'm feeling kind, maybe I'll change that week to days (that also depends on reviews). Hope you all enjoyed it. Feel free to share your comments, because this is the first time I've done any of the characters featured besides God.

Digital-Dragon-Master

"Digi-Dragon"

(Ashley)


	2. Stitch By Stitch

Author's Notes: Good to see that some people like this story! CharlesTheBold wasn't logged in when he reviewed, and as such I couldn't personally respond to him, but I will say he brought up a very interesting point. Was it correct? Maybe. Maybe not.

Just informing here that this story focuses mostly on Joan and Adam, so while there will be interaction between other characters, they won't show up much (that may also be because I'm getting used to writing for Joan and Adam and I'm afraid to expand to other characters that I'm not totally comfortable with). That doesn't mean I can't have a little fun with Luke and Grace though (i.e. this chapter). Just remember, though, the primary focus is Adam and Joan.

Speaking of Adam, do you know how fun it is to write as him? Especially as first season!Adam? Okay, technically he's sort of an odd blend of first and second season, but he's still fun to write, especially using 'cha' and 'unchallenged'. Best. Words. Ever.

You'll also notice I usually refer to Will and Helen by their first names, but Carl as 'Mr. Rove'. This is often because it's in Joan's point of view, albeit not first person, when he's mentioned and it just seems odd to call him 'Carl'. Why, then do I use 'Will' and 'Helen' instead of 'Mr. Girardi' and 'Mrs. Girardi' or 'her mom' and 'her dad' all the time? Well, just the same as using Mr. Rove instead of Carl. Just seems right to call them by their first names. Of course, in an adult's point of view (i.e. Helen), Mr. Rove will be called Carl in casual because that seems to work better. Somehow.

But Mr. Price is always Mr. Price. Never Gavin. Ever.

Oh, and did you know that there's, like, no names for specific actions in knitting besides starting (casting on) and finishing (binding off)? That made naming chapters annoying, but I have all of them. … Huh, did I oddly sound like Joan there for a second? Ranting about something that I previously had no knowledge of… Weird…

Disclaimer: Nothing involving Joan of Arcadia will EVER belong to me, unless I buy the DVDs eventually or something. … Or I illegally purchase Chris Marquette so I can have him do the whole 'puppy-Adam' thing I love so much… ;cough; Just read the story already!

* * *

**Reversing the Stitches**

Stitch by Stitch

For one of the first times in his life, Luke was ignoring Ms. Lischek's science lecture of the day. He felt bad about it, but he was more focused on Grace. Since both Adam and Joan were out of school, Ms. Lischek had granted Luke permission to temporarily transplant to Grace's group so she wouldn't be alone. Friedman and Glynis had won the Hawking Award, after all, so they probably wouldn't need much help anyway, though Luke protested silently that he was more valuable than that.

Luke knew he and Adam weren't all that close. In fact, in their little circle of friends, he was probably the one he connected to the least. Still, the idea of him being in the hospital, let alone not remembering certain things when he woke up, was very unnerving. He felt so useless, as usual. It was just like Kevin's accident or Joan's Lyme Disease. So many people around him needed him to be able to do something, but he just couldn't.

He ventured a glance at Grace. She wasn't paying attention to the lecture either. He heard from his dad she and Joan had actually seen Adam before he was moved. He couldn't even imagine what it must've been like, seeing your best friend for years in such a shape. It was another one of those times where Luke wished he could do something, even it was just saying everything would be alright, but Grace wasn't that kind of girl. If he said some pre-packaged reassurance, she would roll her eyes and snort and sprout off a line from some anarchist manifesto or something. Okay, so maybe that was going too far, but she still made it so hard for him to comfort her.

By the time AP Physics had ended, Luke dully realized he'd promised Joan he would take notes for her and Adam for exams. Great: another thing he couldn't help with.

The group of four seemed a lot smaller without Adam and Joan, though that was obvious. "Is there any good news?" Glynis broke the uncomfortable silence that was forming as they walked down the hall.

Luke shook his head. "Nothing more than yesterday. He could wake up at any time, but we still won't know how much he remembers until he does." Grace didn't add anything and the others knew not to push her to do so. Even Friedman was keeping his mouth shut around Grace. "The doctors are hopeful that he'll remember things eventually, though," he added as an afterthought.

Glynis and Friedman waved to their friends as they reported to their next class. Luke and Grace were lucky because this was their free period, so they could spend it relaxing.

Well, _their _version of relaxing.

It was a wonder that The Biology Closet – it was infamous in Arcadia High School – was such a great making out spot. Everyone simply had to accept that fact and agree with the stories, because if they ever tried to test it out, it was a sure thing that Grace would knock them into next week. Luke was thankful he'd been able to claim it as theirs.

The five-minute-make-out rule had been long forgotten after Grace had ripped up the secrecy contract, but for some reason, after five minutes of "relaxing", Grace broke away from Luke, leaving him extremely perplexed.

"Grace?" He started. "What's wrong? I thought we agreed no more five minutes only rule."

Grace pushed herself onto the step-stool that was conveniently placed behind her and stayed silent for a moment. "It's just so weird. When I walk down the halls, I'm half-expecting to see Rove to be getting some wacky art-thing out of his locker, or Girardi running up to me with some new crazy obsession of hers." She shrugged her shoulders uneasily. She tried to make light of the situation by adding, "I guess I've just grown too used to having them around, huh?"

"They'll be back here soon," Luke put in encouragingly. He frowned and continued, "Well, Joan will at least." Grace looked away for a moment, obviously preoccupied with more than just her friends' absences. "What else is-?"

"Do you think Joan's right?" Grace blurted suddenly. Luke sent her a look that told her he was lost. "To be worried about Rove not remembering her, I mean."

The self-proclaimed Man of Science sighed. "I'm not sure. I mean, hypothetically he could only forget the accident and the days around it," Luke recalled Kevin mentioning something like that with him, but then again Kevin's situation was different, "but he also could have trouble recalling _years_ of memories." The anxious look that crossed Grace's face made Luke inwardly kick himself. "But you don't really have to worry about that, right? I mean, you've known Adam since … forever, so the odds are that he'll at least know who you are."

"It's more than just that," Grace replied in a slightly challenging voice. "It's like… Ever since he met your sister, he's more or less been more at ease with things, especially his mom." They both knew which moments qualified as 'less'. "It's like she changed him for the better or something. If he forgot all that… Considering his history… It almost … scares me." Grace admitted hesitantly.

Now Luke understood. All the progress Adam had made in coming to terms with those problems he had, erased. Grace had told him in confidence that he had issues with his mother's death, though she refused to go any further than that, only that it was bad. Joan confirmed the same thing. Luke had a feeling he sort of got where they were coming from, but he didn't want to make any assumptions. Whatever the case, if Adam really did forget the last two years, they could only hope that he'd regain his memories in the near future.

"Grace… I'm sure-" Luke stopped himself. "This is only temporary. Whatever happens, we can't worry ourselves over a possible future when we aren't even sure what's going to happen. Besides, Joan's going to be there to ease him back, whatever he forgets."

"Yeah, like that's supposed to make me feel better," Grace scoffed lightly. She had a look in her eyes that said otherwise, though. She suddenly fixed Luke with a firm stare. "You tell anyone about this and no making out for a week, got it?"

Luke tried to resist a smirk. "Of course." They then continued with their ever-precious making out. He didn't dream of revealing their private moments together, but he was fairly sure she wouldn't follow up on her threat.

He knew she couldn't go that long without him either.

* * *

Time went by remarkably fast after Joan's difficult explanation of Adam's situation. A very familiar elderly nurse "wandered" in shortly after and hurriedly brought the teenagers some lunch – it was far too late for breakfast - , fixing Adam's bed so the top half was slanted into a half-sitting position and raising the little bed-table to make it easier for him to eat. Then the two of them got to talking.

Surprisingly, he didn't want to know about his life, but about hers. He wanted to know how long they'd known each other and how they met and so many other things all about _her_. So she complied. She told him as much as she could, always having to go back and put in another detail because she forgot he wouldn't know about Kevin's accident or her parents' jobs. She left out the fact that they had dated for a year, and the fact that he'd slept with Bonnie and ended their relationship. According to Adam, they were just really close friends.

She'd shed some light on those things later.

"So your mom's my art teacher?" Adam clarified between spoons of soup. He wasn't used to using his left arm so much, so Joan volunteered to help him with it. This made things a little uncomfortable for obvious reasons (well, obvious to Joan, anyway).

Joan nodded. "Yeah, and I'm a total art-idiot, but you say she's good, and she says you're _really _good."

Adam was suddenly very interested in his soup. "Naw… I'm not really."

"No, you're great!" Joan encouraged. "I don't really understand some of the bit artsy techniques and symbolisms and stuff like other people would," Iris and Bonnie crossed Joan's mind briefly, but she refused to let them ruin her day, "but I know that your art is … good." She wished at times like these that she had a better grasp at artistic terminology.

That seemed good enough for Adam, though, because he sent her a shy smile, much like the ones he used to make back when they first met. "Th-thanks…" He was like a little puppy, and it made Joan want to hug him, but _he didn't know about things_ and _they weren't together anymore_ so she refrained. "S-so your friends with Grace too, right?"

Joan nodded. "Yeah, surprised me too." She laughed a little. "I didn't think I could be friends with her when we first met, but I thought that about you too."

"And she's still … Grace?" Adam really didn't know how to describe it, but Joan understood.

"Yep, she's still Grace," she confirmed. "Oh, but here's something you'll be surprised about. She has a _boyfriend_." Joan couldn't help but let out a few giggles at Adam's flabbergasted expression.

"_Grace_?!" He sputtered. "And a … a boyfriend?" He shook his head. "That's not possible. She doesn't even _use_ the word boyfriend!"

"Yes, it is, and she still doesn't." Joan snipped with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Keep up. She's been with Luke since I don't know how long. They had this weird secrecy contract thing, but she tore it up for his birthday and-"

"Wait, Luke?" Adam broke in. "As in your 'nerdy brother' Luke?"

"Yup. Same one."

"Wow…" Adam leaned back against the head rest. "There's something I never expected."

"You're telling me," Joan agreed. "I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be happy for them or extremely grossed out. Oh, and she had her bat mitzvah too," she added as a side note. Upon seeing Adam's shocked face, she continued, "Maybe she should talk to you about these things."

Adam nodded, his eyes still wide. "Yeah." He found a slightly different topic. "The Vice Principal of the school… It still Mr. Price?"

"Unfortunately." Joan responded sourly.

Adam made a face. "And he's still the same dream-destroying, kid-hating, soulless monster man?"

Joan giggled. "Unchallenged," she affirmed without thinking. Adam turned to her and blinked. She realized too late that that was _his_ word and probably no one even knew about it, let alone used it, except for Grace. He didn't seem to use it much anymore either, now that she thought about it. _Maybe because things are different now. _"S-sorry, I-"

"N-no," Adam shook his head as he answered. "I was just … a little surprised. _No one_ uses unchallenged besides me."

"Yeah." Joan fidgeted with her hands uncomfortably. "I don't really use it either, but it seemed like the right time and … such…" She trailed off when he looked back at her, her train of thought completely derailed. Somehow she just seemed to get lost in his eyes, despite the angry voice in her head yelling about how he cheated on her.

"We're close, right, Jane?" Adam asked, his voice almost too soft to hear.

"Yeah," Joan nodded, her face becoming increasingly red. Why did he always have to make her feel like this? "Close. Friends."

"Good." He smiled awkwardly. "Friends." Something seemed almost empty about the way he said the word.

An uncomfortable silence developed, neither knowing what to say or do. Joan finally broke it, reaching over for the spoon in Adam's soup. "You should, uh, probably eat more. Need to keep up your strength, right?"

"Cha," Adam nodded, he then added as an afterthought, "Unchallenged." Something about that word made her stomach feel all funny now.

"Do you… Need any help?" She asked with her fingers poised above the spoon.

He took it himself, shaking his head. "I'm feeling okay now. I can do it myself."

She felt somewhat disappointed, but smiled nevertheless. "Good. Okay." One word sentences. That's all she felt like at the moment, yet somehow she got back into talking to him, this time talking about some of their friends (other than Grace, because she could talk enough for herself).

"We hang out with Grace and Luke of course, but Luke's friends Friedman and Glynis study with us too sometimes." Joan continued to drive away the previous awkward silence.

"Friedman? Isn't he that guy who tease Grace because everyone thinks she's, ah," Adam lowered his voice, as if he was afraid that Grace would pop out of nowhere and pound him for even saying anything, "lesbian?"

"Heh, yeah, but he doesn't do that anymore," Joan explained. "When your best friend starts playing tonsil hockey with the girl you call lesbian, it kind of takes all the fun out of it, I think. He's still a bit of a jerk, but it's all in good fun now." Joan made a face. "I think. He's not all bad though," Joan added when she saw Adam's skeptically look. "He's showed some charm a few times. He even memorized the entire play _Hamlet_ for-" Joan's words died in her throat. She swallowed them back down. "N-never mind that." She forced on an unconvincing smile and continued, "You'd better not talk about Glynis in front of Grace, though. She went out with Luke for awhile and I don't think they've ever really talked about that." She glanced nervously at the clock and laughed to herself nervously. "Look at that – I can call my mom pretty soon. She'll be able to tell your dad the good news."

Joan continued a lot easier after that, describing the nearly random antics she'd taken part in throughout the last few years, but careful not to mention God. She joked and poked fun at herself, but she could still feel Adam's curious gaze, wondering why she broke off so suddenly.

* * *

Helen Girardi mentally added another bullet to her list of reasons to hate Vice Principal Price as she nearly huffed out of his office after school. Not only had he given her an unexpected meeting after school, meaning she couldn't take Luke and Grace to the hospital to visit Adam, but he had not-so-subtly implied that Joan was using Adam's amnesia as an excuse to skip school. That man… There were so many times that she just wanted to give him a piece of her mind. She had a few times, and it felt _good_, but she sadly knew she couldn't make it an everyday occurrence, for pissing off the vice principal wasn't a good way to keep her job.

"Mom!" Luke caught her just as she was entering the art room. Grace was following him. "We're just about ready to go," Luke changed the direction of his sentence when he saw the state of the art room, "and why is your stuff still all over the room?"

Helen sighed. "Price called me into his office and said there's this big meeting that probably has _nothing_ to do with me, but I have to stay anyway, and …" She gave her son an apologetic look, "I can't give you a ride to the hospital today."

Grace piped up first. "We can always walk," she suggested with an underlying hint of hidden meaning. She gave Luke a knowing look as she did so.

"No, I couldn't let you kids do that," Helen disagreed.

"I could drive," Luke put in. Both females looked at him like he was growing a second head. He turned his attention to his mother first, "You let Joan drive on her first day with her driver's license," then he spun to face Grace, "and you said you didn't have a problem with me driving." He then turned back to his mother to seal the deal. "I've been driving for a few months, mom, and I promise I'll come and pick you up when your meeting's done."

Helen didn't know how she could say no, and Grace murmured something with a disgruntled look on her face, but she conceded as well. Helen handed her son the keys with a brief expression of concern, and the two were off.

As they walked out, Helen could hear Grace warn, "Don't let this go to your head, Girardi. One ride doesn't mean I'm going to suddenly become one of those girls that goes on late night drives."

Helen smiled. They would be fine. She was just about ready to head to another one of the surprise meetings from Hell – not that she thought Price was the Devil or anything – when her cell phone began ringing. Joan.

"Joan, I don't really have time to talk right now," she told her daughter as she answered the call. "Mr. Price has ordered me to another meeting." Her voice dropped to a sour tone when she mentioned 'Mr. Price' in conversation.

"_What?!_" Joan cried in surprise. "_But Mom, you have to come to the hospital!_"

"I'll be there later, sweetie," Helen reassured. "Luke and Grace are on their way with your homework right now."

"_Oh, I don't care about that stuff!_" Joan griped in an annoyed tone. "_Can't you just tell him to … put it off?_"

"I'd like to tell him a few things," Helen grumbled under her breath when she remembered Mr. Price's insinuation about Joan. She then continued in a louder voice, "No, I can't. I'll just have to come around later."

She heard a loud exaggerated groan from her daughter and could swear she heard muffled laughter. "_Fine. Then can you at least call Adam's dad? I don't have his number._"

"Call his dad?" Helen repeated. She nearly dropped her papers as she realized what this meant. "Joan, is Adam awake?"

Joan winced. "_I … forgot to mention that, didn't I?_" Now it was Helen's turn to groan, and she was joined by a softer voice on Joan's side, presumably Adam.

"Joan Girardi," Helen was about to give her daughter a short lecture about keeping her priorities straight, but she stopped. Joan had been waiting all week for Adam to wake up, and now that he had, she shouldn't do something to ruin that. She continued in a gentle voice, "Tell Adam I'm glad he's conscious."

She could almost hear Joan frown with confusion. "_Did I just dodge some big lecture or something?_"

"No," Helen assured falsely. "Should I call Luke and Grace and tell them the good news?"

"_Naw, let them find out when the get here._" A small uncomfortable silence hung and Helen heard her daughter moving around on the other side of the phone. She continued in a whisper, so she could only assume she'd moved away from Adam. "_Mom, Adam doesn't remember anything that happened after freshmen year._"

Helen wanted to be there for her daughter more than anything now and nearly cursed Mr. Price in her mind – she stopped because she didn't think God would want that. "Oh, honey –"

"_No, it's… I'm fine. He'll remember everything later; I'm sure of it. I'll be fine, though. Don't worry. I just wanted to … to tell you so you could be prepared for it._" Joan guaranteed, though Helen assumed at least part it was a little lie. She wouldn't push the issue, though.

"All right. I'll give Mr. Rove a call, and I'll be over there as soon as I can." Helen confirmed.

"_Thanks, Mom._" Joan was talking louder now, so she could safely presume she was walking back to Adam. "_I'll see you later then._"

"Right. Love you."

"_Yeah, love you too._" Just the right amount of childish awkwardness was present in Joan's voice. "_Bye._"

Helen hung up and then worded her next few sentences in her head before dialing Carl's number.

* * *

The trip to the hospital was a surprisingly uneventful one. Luke was a better driver than Grace gave him credit for, or Mrs. Girardi for that matter. She'd have to put in a good word.

Eventually.

Grace shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably. Another pointless trip. They were going to once again stay and tell Adam what he'd been missing in school, which was nothing, like he could hear them. Sure, Grace was unexpectedly optimistic the first few days, but as time went on her hope began to sink. Now it was only discouraging to go visit Adam. Still, they needed to give Joan her homework, because sooner or later she would be coming back to school.

Luke apparently noticed her uneasy attitude – he tended to do that a lot nowadays – and leaned over after putting the car in park. "You know, we don't have to stay today if you don't want to. I can quiz Joan when she gets home."

"You know as well as I do that she'll pretend to forget what time it is and stay here again," Grace pointed out. Luke gave her a worried look, to which she shot a firm one, saying she was fine. "Now, come on," she opened the passenger door and got out, "we need to go tutor your sister on the," she glanced at the sheets of paper in her hand, "'electromagnetic spectrum'." She nearly snorted. "Who names these things?" Luke opened his mouth, most likely to give her an answer. "Rhetorical, dude."

"Right."

Luke clambered out as well and the two walked into the hospital. The receptionist, who was normally dry and boring, gave them an unusually bright smile. "Here to see Mr. Rove again, hm?" She asked despite the obvious answer. "Well, go on down."

When they were out of ear-shot, Grace leaned over to Luke and muttered, "Maybe we can recommend that camp Joan was sent to her." Luke sniggered softly, trying not to disturb any doctors or patients. "What was it called – 'Mental Acres'?"

"'Gentle'," Luke corrected in an amused tone.

"Mine sounds better," Grace murmured. Luke's dull laughter said he agreed.

They soon reached Adam's room and paused at the door. They always did this, as if they didn't know what to expect. The first few times it was with anticipation for something good; now it was with dread.

"I say again, if you don't want to stay –" Grace's hand flew up, signaling Luke to stop.

"I'm fine," confirmed Grace. "Seriously."

They heard Joan's voice from within. She was evidently telling Adam a story. "… So then you gave me a … homemade cheerleader thing as good luck. It was after the tryouts … and you called the pom-poms hairy things," she said the next part in a hurry, "but it was still really sweet. I still have it, too."

Both teenagers knew what Joan was talking about. She was telling Adam about her random decision to try out for cheerleading. It started out with her alienating Grace, but with a totally amazing final cheer that both made a stand and proved a point, it ended with Joan becoming much cooler in the eyes of the Sub-Defectives in the school.

"Should we go in?" Luke asked in a near whisper.

Grace shook her head. "Let her finish her story."

Unknowing of the two eavesdroppers, Joan continued. "I didn't make the squad, of course, and I ended up committing social suicide in the process, but Grace was willing to talk to me in the end, so everything turned out for the better. I think she thought it was like some stand against preppy tyranny or taking a stand for the underdog or something like that."

What happened next startled them both: Joan got a response. A laugh, and then, "Cha, unchallenged."

Grace nearly ripped the door from its hinges opening it. She found Joan sitting next to Adam's bed like usual, but this time she had on a real smile instead of a forced one. She was even laughing. There was another major difference in the room's atmosphere as well: Adam was propped up, smiling and laughing – awake.

Adam noticed them first, because he reached over and tapped Joan, pointing behind her and murmuring. Joan turned and her grin spread wider. "Grace! Luke!" She stood up and held out her hands towards Adam as if she were presenting him at a fair. "Surprise!"

Grace recovered first. "Girardi, you do something like this again and I will personally kill you." She found it hard to keep the smile that was forming down while she delivered the half-threat.

Joan obviously didn't take it to heart and continued as if Grace had said nothing at all. "Oh, and Adam, this is Luke."

Adam's eyes got distant for a moment, as if he was trying to recall something, but then he nodded in recognition. "Right! You're going out with Grace!"

Luke and Grace exchanged a glance and Joan nodded discreetly, confirming their fears. _Freshmen graduation_, she mouthed before turning back to Adam. "Well, I'll let Grace have some private time with you now, okay?" She collected her bag and scampered over to the door, grabbing Luke's arm.

"You don't have to leave, Girardi," Grace told her.

"Naw, it's okay." Joan waved a dismissive hand. "I've had, like, five hours with him. Your turn now." Her face turned grim. "I need to get caught up on homework, anyway."

Grace and Joan exchanged a quick unspoken conversation. _Thanks, Girardi._

_Don't mention it._ Then it was over.

"I may be getting my mom by the time you're finished," Luke informed Grace, to which she rolled her eyes.

"I won't be in here _that_ long. I'm not you with your chemistry set," she jabbed playfully. Luke merely smiled back.

Joan gave Adam a little wave that he reciprocated and she and Luke left, most likely to study the electromagnetic spectrum. Grace noted that Adam's gaze seemed to linger on the door for a few moments before he switched it to her. _Here we go again,_ Grace thought.

"Hey, Grace," Adam said softly.

"Hey yourself," she responded. "You feeling okay, Rove?" There was an underlying concern in her voice that not many people would be able to pick out. Adam was one of them.

He shrugged in response. "More or less." He added with a slight smirk, "Jane told me you were worried about me."

'_Jane'? _Whenever Adam referred to Joan, he always called her by her real first name. He seemed to be talking more than he would have too, given how much he remembered. Something was off. Nevertheless, Grace countered, "Did she now? What else did she say?"

"Well, obviously that you have a boyfriend –"

"Her word, not mine," Grace interjected.

"– And that your dad finally convinced you to do your bat mitzvah."

Grace shrugged. "Almost didn't. Girardi helped convince me to go through with it."

Adam got a sort of fluttery smile on his face. "She's something, isn't she? Said we were all good friends."

"Friends." Grace echoed. "All of us."

Adam nodded in response. "Cha."

_Seems Girardi's fudging the story a bit. _"I guess so."

The amnesiac glanced about nervously. "Everything's so different, Grace." He confided in an abruptly frightened and small voice. "I mean… It shouldn't seem that way, especially since I've only seen Jane and you, but… It does."

And suddenly Grace saw the scared little boy still dwelling on a note from his dead mother. That was when she truly knew the Adam Rove she knew for the last two years really wasn't there. "Hey," Grace smoothed in a rare gentle moment, stunning Adam. "Don't talk like that. You'll remember everything. You just need to give it some time." Adam didn't meet her eyes, seeming skeptical. Grace tried again. "When this is all over … we'll go sewer walking and boat floating again. Just the two of us."

Adam had trouble speaking and swallowed hard, but in the end said nothing, staring at Grace gratefully with bright eyes.

* * *

Joan thought her mind was going to break. She'd long ago given up on trying to understand her brother's attempts at explaining physics to her, but she had yet to discover a way to turn off her ears.

She'd gotten the electromagnetic spectrum easily enough (surprisingly), but once Luke had moved into other regions that had to be reviewed, her comprehension suddenly disappeared. She was currently hitting her pencil idly against her head while Luke, ever the scientist, babbled away.

"God, help me…" Joan murmured, tempted to drive the pencil through her skull.

She didn't really notice what she'd said, but as if He answered her call, split-second later, Doctor God passed by. Nothing happened for a moment, but then the door to Adam's room opened and Grace stuck her head out.

"You guys can come back in now, if you want," Grace called out, watching Joan's face light up with joy.

_He _really_ knows how to win me over,_ Joan thought, glancing to Doctor God just in time to see his signature backward wave. "Oh, thank God," Joan breathed, standing up and stretching. "Luke was rambling on about the wonders of quantum physics and the principal of hydrodynamic inclusion." Joan blinked. Her tongue suddenly seemed to hurt.

Grace was meanwhile busy rubbing her temples. "Ouch. That second one gives me an aneurism just hearing it."

Joan eagerly gathered up her bag and her homework. Luke frowned slightly but did the same, muttering as he did, "it's hydrodynamic in_fusion_." Joan popped into Adam's room, glad to see him again. She grinned at him and gave him a little wave. She felt like they were back in their puppy-love stage, way back when she first met him. Maybe this amnesia wasn't such a horrible thing after all; maybe it meant they were supposed to give "them" a second try.

The three teenagers gathered around Adam's bed, Joan in the chair on the left, Grace in the chair on the right, and Luke standing at the end. "Glad you two stopped talking when you did," Joan commented casually. "Luke was killing me with physics talk."

"I was not killing you," Luke protested. "I was merely trying to help you understand the homework you missed. You're going to have to learn it too," he shot at Adam when he saw the chuckle the injured boy was trying to hide.

"Cha, but I won't have to start until I remember more of the basic principals," Adam pointed out.

Luke sighed. "Am I really the only one who finds the laws of the universe fascinating?"

Grace didn't miss a beat. "Yep. I thought we went over this in The Biology Closet."

Adam shot Joan a confused look, and she merely shook her head. She'd tell him later. She checked her watch nonchalantly and frowned. "Hey, shouldn't Mom be done with her meeting by now?"

Luke shrugged. "Mr. Price is keeping them later and later these days. Wouldn't surprise me if it goes on another hour or so." It had already been over an hour since school ended. He suddenly spied the stray plates that once held Adam and Joan's lunches. "Say, when was the last time you two ate?"

Both exchanged an uncertain look. "Um… When the kind nurse brought us lunch?" Joan suggested helplessly.

Luke sighed. "I'll get you some food," he proposed drearily. "We," he obviously meant himself and Grace, "probably could use some too, anyway."

Grace stood up, pushing Luke into her seat as he tried to leave. "No, I'll go." She walked over to Joan and pulled her from her comfortable seat unceremoniously. "Come on. I need help carrying things."

Joan mouthed futilely as Grace half-dragged her away. "But – I – Adam –" She moped nearly inaudibly. She was powerless to try and stop Grace, though, so she let herself be pulled out of the room.

* * *

The girls were gone with a slam of the door, leaving an awkward silence with them. Luke was again reminded that he and Adam probably wouldn't have even hung out if it wasn't for their connections to the two girls who had just left the room, but he still searched for a conversation topic.

Adam instead filled the silence. "You really like Grace, don't you?"

Well, _this_ caught him off guard. "Uh, wha-?"

"I don't wanna pry or anything, but… that's good." Adam smiled nervously. "She likes you a lot too. I can tell by the way she's loosened up. You and Jane are really good for her."

Luke decided to overlook the fact that Adam had called Joan 'Jane' in casual conversation instead of leaving it a nickname. "Uh… Thanks, I-I guess."

"Sorry about teasing you a bit earlier," Adam said sheepishly. "Couldn't resist."

"No, no, I'm used to that," Luke assured. He then added, "You know, once you do start to remember physics, I can tutor you and stuff."

"Seriously?" Adam asked with a little laugh.

Luke nodded. "Yeah. Don't tell Joan, though. I don't tutor her because she'd keep on coming back to me time after time, using the sibling card to guilt me into it."

Adam blinked in confusion. "Joan…?" He had his old nearly spacey look on, and Luke stared at him, baffled. Did he think Joan's name really _was_ 'Jane'? "Uh, cha," Adam agreed, obviously distracted by something.

Luke decided to let that go too. He was probably just being Adam.

* * *

"How come the vending machines at hospitals have better food than the cafeterias?" Joan mused as she waited for the last wrapped sandwich to swing around the rotating vending machine. Grace didn't answer. She merely fixed Joan with a continuingly critical gaze. "What? What'd I say?"

"What aren't you telling Rove?" Grace questioned pointedly.

Joan was suddenly very interested in the turkey sandwich in her hand. "N-nothing. Why wouldn't I tell Adam something?"

Grace put a hand on Joan's shoulder, forcing her to look at her. "He actually thinks your name is Jane. What have you been telling him?"

Joan found it a lot harder to dodge the question this time and she swallowed the rising lump of nerves. "I-I just … I sort of … introduced myself as Jane instead of Joan." Grace's looked grew more intense. "A-and I didn't mention the fact that we dated… Or that we broke up… Or Bonnie." Joan was exceedingly glad that Grace had yet to specifically ask her about the many God avatars she talked to.

The anarchist girl groaned just as the cheese sandwich fell into the pick-up area of the vending machine. "Girardi," she moaned warningly. "What exactly are you trying to do here?"

"I don't know, okay?" Joan responded defensively. "I guess I'm just trying to ease him back into the idea that we dated. I'll mention it eventually."

"And the second part?" Grace pushed.

The lump of nerves returned to Joan's throat and she hurriedly snatched up the cheese sandwich. "I-I haven't gotten that far yet."

"You do remember that _you_ broke up with _him_, right?" Grace reproached.

"Yeah, Grace, I do," Joan shot back. She sighed and sunk into the chair next to the vending machines. "It's just that… seeing him lying there like that, so helpless… I can't be mad at him. I can't just forget about what he did, but," she looked at Grace vulnerably, "I still love him. I can't just forget about that. I've tried so many times to make myself hate him, but –"

"So you're willing to just let him off for what he did and hope he never remembers it?" Grace summed up. "I'm not a professional in the whole relationship thing, but I thought sugar-coating and lies were on the top of the 'don't list'."

Joan moaned. "I know. It's not the best plan –"

"It's not the best anything," Grace interjected. Joan glowered dourly. "Go on, go on."

"It's not the best plan, but maybe we can find a way to make it all work." Joan poked at the plastic wrap around the sandwich absent-mindedly. "I nearly lost him. I can't let that happen again."

Grace sighed. "You're headin' for trouble, Girardi, but I won't say anything. I just hope you know you're getting yourself into."

"Yeah, that makes two of us," Joan replied gloomily. She stood up slowly. "Let's head back. If we're gone any longer Luke might melt Adam's brain with that hydro-thingy again."

* * *

Joan and Grace arrived back just in time to see Luke hang up his cell phone. "There you two are! We thought you'd gotten lost," He joked.

"Girardi was being picky," Grace clarified. Joan turned to correct her but got a subtle elbow in the ribs in response, to which she stayed silent. Grace was only trying to help her.

Joan decided to change the subject. "Who were you talking to?"

"Mom. Kevin got off early and swung by the high school to pick her up. She was calling from the car," Luke explained. "He's going to drop her off here and then head back to work, so she needs the car." Luke walked over to Joan and withdrew the car keys from his pocket. He exchanged them for the cheese sandwich in Joan's hands. "Loose these and we're both grounded."

"What? Why aren't you staying?" Joan asked.

"I promised Friedman we'd go over some notes tonight," Luke replied. "I need the extra time to finish homework. You guys need the car more, so I'll walk."

"I should probably go with," Grace put in, to which Adam put on a disappointed face. "Don't give me that 'kicked puppy' face, Rove," she warned. "I have a history project that's been festering in the bottom of my bag I need to finish, and some of us have school to go to," she shot Joan a pointed look, "like you starting tomorrow, Girardi." Joan whined slightly. She'd forgotten about that part of the deal. "We'll be back around tomorrow," Grace assured before she grabbed Luke's arm and led him out of the room, leaving Adam and Joan alone again.

Joan sighed and slumped into her usual chair, handing Adam a remaining turkey sandwich as she did. "As much as I hate to admit it, Grace _is_ right. I won't be able to stay here tonight because I have to go back to school."

"Y-you were staying the night here?" Adam asked.

Joan blushed. "Well, I told my parents I just lost track of time, but, heh," She grinned sheepishly, "yeah, I was." She continued hurriedly to prevent further embarrassment. "But now that your awake I can't be out of school anymore, so I can't stay all that late, and I won't be able to come until after school." She paused. "And I have work at the book store." She sunk visibly for a second before adding, "But I'm sure Sammy will let me have afternoons off. I mean, you _are_ in the hospital. Plus, I'll have a lot more time on the weekend, so I can drop by then t – what's wrong?" She broke off upon seeing Adam look away awkwardly.

"Um, how many more days until the weekend?" He questioned in a small voice.

Joan had never told him which day of the week it was. She winced for a moment. "Wednesday."

"Thanks," Adam replied self-consciously. He focused on his sandwich instead of Joan.

There was a light knocking on the door and in walked Helen. A smile spread across her face when she saw Adam. "Adam, it's great to see you're awake."

"Thanks," Adam responded airily. "I hear you're my art teacher."

"Yes, I am," Helen replied kindly. "And you're one of my most promising students."

Adam sunk a little into his sheets, unused to praise. Joan prodded his left arm, not wanting to touch anywhere else for fear of hurting him. "See? Told you!"

"I called your father and he'll be here once he gets off work," Helen told Adam, who was grateful that the subject was changing. "He wanted to come sooner, but I assured him you were fine with J –"

"Mom, did you bring any of your art for Adam to see?" Joan cut in when her mother started to say her name.

Helen looked at her daughter dubiously. "You never asked me that when you called me."

"A-are you sure?" Joan pressed. "I'm sure I mentioned something."

"No, I'm pretty sure you didn't." Helen eyed her daughter. Something was up.

"I'm sure he'd like to see some anyway, right Adam?" Joan questioned hastily.

"Cha, of course," Adam replied, seemingly oblivious to Helen's suspicion and Joan's shiftiness. "I'd love to."

"Great!" Joan replied, as if that settled everything. She took an abnormally large bite out of her sandwich and suddenly attempted to cough out a piece of turkey she forgot to chew. "F-fine! I'm fine!" She assured when Helen and Adam both gave her worried looks. She stood up and backed away from the bed, eventually dislodging the meat from her throat. _This _was why she was a chicken person.

Helen didn't look convinced. "You sure you're alright, Joan?" She asked in concern.

Adam shot Joan a confused look, to which she had no response. It was at that very moment that the door flew open and Mr. Rove ran into the room, embracing his son as best he could without hurting him. Joan didn't know if the man was crying, but she wouldn't be surprised if he was. All she heard were a few phrases from Mr. Rove – one of them clearly being 'thank God', ironically enough – and Adam's soft protests that he was okay.

The Girardi women knew when it was time to leave. Helen gestured to the door with her head and Joan nodded. When she was sure Adam was able to see her, Joan sent a little wave his way and backed out of the room, closing the door as she went. They walked down the halls in silence for a moment before Joan dug through her jean pocket and handed her mom the car keys.

"Here. Luke basically told me to guard them with my life," Joan explained.

"Sorry we had to leave like that, honey," Helen said apologetically. "I know you probably wanted to spend more time with Adam."

"No, no," Joan insisted. "I had all day with him. Mr. Rove gets this time." She glanced at her wrist watch idly and figured Adam's father had probably gotten off early to see Adam; it was nowhere near the time he usually got back from work. "Besides, I can come back tomorrow."

And she could use the extra time to figure out what she would say to Adam when he asked why she lied to him when he asked her for her name.

* * *

School days were never good days for Adam. Whenever he was there, he wanted to at home, doing his art. Now, ironically, the one time he couldn't go to school, he wanted to, because at least it would give him something to do other than sit and stare at the dull walls of the hospital. He couldn't even stand up without help from one of the nurses that tended to him, and they only let him get out of bed when he needed to use the bathroom.

They also refused to let him use crutches, most likely because of the still-healing gash on his right arm. Apparently whatever cut it open – the doctors suspected it was a jagged rock of some sort – nearly tore a muscle or scraped a bone or something and they wanted to make sure he didn't injure himself further, so he was force to be pushed around in a wheelchair. Forget the fact that he could still use his left arm. No, he had to be wheeled around, and then straight back to bed.

And the worst thing about school days? They meant that his dad and Jane and Grace couldn't come by and talk to him until school or work was over.

So that is why Adam was staring at the clock, unsuccessfully willing time to speed up with his eyes. He'd only woken up the day before, and he was already dreading the coming weeks. Well, he thought it was going to be weeks, at least. The doctors never mentioned when they were planning on discharging him, despite the fact that he could technically go home once he woke up. Sure, no crutches due to his arm, but he could at least be given a wheelchair to get around, right? He supposed they wanted to monitor his brain activity or something to make sure he didn't have brain damage or something.

At least that's what he rationalized. Maybe he could ask Luke when he visited with Grace and Jane. He'd only talked to the younger boy for a brief period of time, but he already knew he probably had knowledge of these kinds of situations.

"Hi, there, sweetie." Adam looked over at the door to see the same elderly nurse that had discovered he was awake and talking to Jane the previous day. She was pushing a cart with many, many cups of chocolate pudding. "A little snack while you're waiting for your friends." It dawned on him that school was nearly over. Had he really spent all that time just staring at the wall? She placed one on the bed-table, opening it and setting down a plastic spoon. "When you're finished just hit the button and someone will come and clear it," she explained, gesturing to the already-too-familiar call button on the side of Adam's bed. She turned to leave, but then stopped. "I know it's none of my business, but you seem to be very lost in thought. Are you alright?"

Normally, Adam would just say that's just how he was, spacey, but today there actually _was _a reason: Jane. For some reason, something seemed really off about the way she'd been acting the other day, and both her brother and her mom called her 'Joan'. Had she lied to him? What reason would she have? Of course, he didn't really want to let all his feelings out to the nurse, even if she was the nicest one there.

"Cha. I'm fine." Adam confirmed unconvincingly.

The nurse simply nodded. "All right, but if you're having some trouble, don't be afraid to ask for help and talking it over with someone never hurts." She smiled at him in a way that somehow made all of his worries and anxieties disappear, and then she left, throwing her hand up in an odd backward wave as she did.

Suddenly, being stuck in the hospital didn't seem all so bad anymore.

Adam was just finishing his pudding – _why is it that they never want to give me solid foods?_ He mused to himself absent-mindedly – when a young male nurse poked his head in and called. "Mr. Rove? There's a," he glanced at the clipboard in his hands, "Joan Girardi here to se you."

Adam blinked. There it was again: Joan. Suddenly, Jane's familiar voice sounded from outside the door. "Jane! Jane Girardi!" Something about it sounded indecisive. He nodded nonetheless. Jane – or was it Joan? – anxiously squeezed her way past the nurse when he gave her the okay. She shut the door behind her and shot Adam an unconvincing grin. "Hey. Sorry that I'm a bit late. Ms. Lischek – she's our AP Physics teacher – had to talk to me about a test I'd missed." She sat next to his bed, the excitement practically radiating from her voice. "Oh, and Luke and Grace can't come today. Grace still has that history project to work on and Luke's volunteered to help her, but I really don't think him being there's going to help anything."

Adam frowned at her, not really taking in most of what she was saying. "Your name isn't really Jane, is it?" Jane – Joan? – looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She stared at him wide-eyed and silent. He had his answer. "It isn't, huh? It's really Joan."

Jane – no, Joan – nodded slowly. "Yeah. It is."

"Why'd you lie to me, Joan?" Adam asked. For some reason the name tasted wrong in his mouth when he addressed her by it.

Joan sighed and bit her lip, looking at anything but him. "It's really sort of silly, but … you used to call me Jane all the time, and … I didn't want you to stop. I thought if you called me Jane instead of Joan, then … then maybe things would just go back to being how they were." When she finally looked at him, Adam saw her eyes were oddly watery.

He looked away for a second before asking, "We really _were_ close, huh?"

Joan nodded, and unspoken words seemed to hover in her eyes. "Yeah. We _really_ were."

"And I can't remember any of it," continued Adam guiltily.

"No, no, no, don't take it like that," Joan comforted. She took his hand in hers. "This whole misunderstanding is my fault, not yours." She smiled nervously and added in a whisper, "I mean, once the hospital releases you, I can help you get your memory back, and then we can be close again, right? A nice relaxing summer in Arcadia for a change."

Adam smiled back. "I-I guess we can look at it like – wait what about last summer?"

Joan tensed again, the smiled cemented on her face. "Excuse me?"

"You've been here for almost three years." Adam affirmed. "The first summer was the moving summer, and then there's last summer, and then there'll be this summer. What about last summer?"

Adam felt Joan's hand tighten and start to shake. "I was, um, sent to a camp. A camp f-for crazy people."

Never would he have expected that. "Wh-what?"

Joan continued unsteadily, "I got Lyme Disease. W-we never really found out how, but … it caused hallucinations and made my brain all crazy, s-so my parents sent me to a camp to correct all that, Gentle Acres."

"B-but it wasn't your fault, right?" Adam asked. "It was because you were sick. Why didn't someone tell them that? Why didn't someone stop them?" He then added softly, "Why didn't I stop them?"

"You sort of thought I was crazy too," Joan admitted.

"What?! Why?!" Adam was shocked. He'd barely really known Joan for a day, but he could tell she wasn't crazy. "I wouldn't… I mean, why would I think you were crazy?"

"I was hallucinating." Joan repeated, dodging the question slightly. "Everyone thought there was something wrong with me, and they needed to get me some professional help."

"But why wasn't it closer to here?" Adam still didn't understand why he didn't vouch for her.

"Well, it _was_ pretty close to home," Joan answered, still hiding something. "My parents had already dealt with a major breakdown two years before with Kevin. They just couldn't do the same with me." Before Adam could speak again, Joan continued, "Besides, it wasn't all bad." Her trembling smile spread. "I got to meet Judith."

Alarms started going off in Adam's head, begging him not to continue on the subject path they were going down, but his curiosity got the better of him. "Who's Judith?"

A sudden distant, dreamy smile appeared on Joan's features. "Judith was my totally amazing friend. We met at crazy camp and something just clicked, because suddenly there wasn't just Joan and Judith, there was Joanith, like if she was somewhere, I had to be too. She kept me from _really_ going crazy, and I did the same with her. We tied each other down to the world.

"When camp ended, I thought I'd never see her again. We promised to keep in touch, but it was still horrible to leave her. Then … a few weeks after school started up again, Judith was suddenly _there_. She'd been transferred to our school after breaking some stupid rule and getting kicked out of her old one." Joan laughed, but it held no mirth. "It didn't take her long to get in trouble here, either. She almost died from alcohol poisoning, and then just kept on making wrong choices. Just when I thought she'd straightened her life out, and everything was going right," Joan's hand was now clenching Adam's so tight that both their knuckles were white, "she died." Joan's smile stretched and seemed almost like it would break. Sparkling tears slipped down her face, but she didn't wipe them away. "Sh-she was hanging out with some friends from her old neighborhood, buying … d-drugs, or something, and the dealer st-stabbed her. H-he stabbed her repeatedly, a-and her 'friends' just ran off and left her alone." Joan took a deep breath, but couldn't contain her sobs. Still, she continued. "I-I saw her in the hospital before she died. You did too. I-I was with her. She'd been teaching me to juggle and she wanted to see if I'd got it down before she –"

Joan turned her head down suddenly, obviously unable to continue speaking. She made a few garbled noises, but none of them resembled any word that Adam knew. He didn't know what to say to comfort her. His mom was dead, but she'd done the deed herself. He didn't know if Joan knew the details about his mom's death or not, but how would comparing an OD'ed mother to a murdered high-schooler make anything better?

Instead, he moved the hand in her vice grip as much as he could and stroked hers using his thumb. "Jane…"

Joan looked up and her dazed eyes locked with Adam's gentle ones. Her hand went strangely limb in his. "I-I told you my name was Joan."

"I know, but … Jane just seems right," Adam responded in a soft, soothing tone.

The next few seconds were all a blur to Adam. Joan gave a repressed sorrowful cry, and suddenly she was half on top of him, holding him like he was the only thing that mattered and sobbing into his chest. He was frozen for a moment, but his left arm instinctively wrapped around Joan's back, pulling her closer. He rested his chin on the top of her head and rubbed her back, letting her get all her tears out.

A strange constricted feeling rose from within Adam's chest, but it wasn't because Joan was on it. The feeling was so painful, but so wonderful at the same time. Something about her – the warmth of her body, the feel of her arms around his neck, her hands digging into his shoulder blades, her hair tickling his chin as she repositioned herself – drove Adam crazy. He could even smell the shampoo she used, though he couldn't place the scent (some sort of flower, probably). Whatever that strange feeling was, or that strange need to never let her go, he pushed it down and just let cling to him. He was there for her. That was all that mattered.

"Sorry," Joan apologized in a breathy voice much later – neither of them had a grip on how long she had been crying in his arms –, now sitting back in her chair. "I-I didn't mean to just leap on you like that."

"No, you don't have to apologize for that," Adam insisted softly. Something suddenly caught his eye. She'd cried until she couldn't cry anymore, but yet still a few small tears leaked their way out of her eyes. "Hey, you're still crying," he observed.

Joan laughed slightly, though it sounded weird when coupled with her tear-streaked face. "Yeah, I tend to do that a lot," she told him. She glanced at her wristwatch and nearly gasped. "Oh, man, is that the time? S-sorry Adam, but I promised Sammy I'd be at work, like, now." She stood up abruptly, and it was only then that Adam realized he was still holding her hand. She noticed it too.

"O-oh," Adam let go of it suddenly and the warmth it provided was gone. He didn't like that. "Then… You'll come here tomorrow?" He asked hopefully.

Joan nodded and smiled. "You bet." Somehow, despite her messed up hair and her blood-shot eyes and her streaky face, she looked absolutely beautiful. She picked up her bag and, with one last look over her shoulder, left the room.

The constricting in Adam's chest had turned to a fluttering, making him light-headed and oddly happy. He closed his eyes and he'd see her face. The door would open and he'd hope for a split-second it would be her, even though he knew she wasn't coming. He'd run his fingers together, if only to remember how her hand had felt in his. Even while talking to his father later that night, she lingered in the back of his mind.

It wasn't until late that night, just when he was falling asleep, that he realized the obvious reason for all these symptoms. Just as he drifted off into dreamland, his mind declared what his heart knew to be true.

_I think I'm falling for her._

* * *

**End of Act II**

A/N: Oh, come on. Like you all didn't see it coming. We saw how short a time it took for him to like her in the show, right? I'll repeat, though. Writing first season!Adam is seriously fun, even though this Adam is a little more – what would you call it? – confident, maybe, than the one we know. While Adam doesn't remember the last two years, remember that all the changes he made had a lasting example on him, and that doesn't go away too fast, therefore he's bound to be a little bit more secure and open (Grace made note of this when she commented to herself that he seemed to be a bit more talkative than the Adam she remembered).

Overall, I hope you guys are enjoying this. Now, don't think it's going to be all rainbows and butterflies. You all of course see the big, gaping hole in Joan's plan, right? And you all of course see that _something_ is going to go wrong. I'm just not going to tell you what. This was probably the happiest act in the entire story. Not to say there won't be happy moments in the ones, but… Well…

All I can say, you thought this act was emotional? Wait until you see Act III…

Digital-Dragon-Master

"Digi-Dragon"

(Ashley)


	3. Creating Loops

Author's Notes: Sorry for the slight couple-hour delay. I had to write the last few pages of this chapter when I got home from school (ugh). I could've finished it over the weekend, but I had to study for my permit test in Driver's Ed (which I still have to retake because I missed a few signs and several other questions) and, I, ah, indulged myself with a Chris Marquette movie. ;sheepish grin; _American Gun_ is a wonderful film. There's another reason, but…I actually think it would count as a bit of a spoiler if I told you, so I'll reveal it at the end of the act.

Actually, I don't think I really have anything else for you today. Yeah, I know, shocking. Long-winding author with hardly any notes? Weird. I will say, though that this is the act that I've had the most planned out, besides Act I of course.

Disclaimer: I do not own Joan of Arcadia. Not at all. If I did, "Trial and Error" would've been handled differently… Sex with a girl he barely knew, and a couple of times, too… Argh. Drives me crazy.

* * *

**Reversing the Stitches**

Creating Loops

Adam was correct in his assumption that he'd be in the hospital for weeks. He'd told Grace and Joan that he suspected the doctors wanted to keep him until he remembered everything, to which both thought he was being paranoid. He kept insisting on it, so they eventually said there was probably some merit in his accusations, even though he suspected it was only to keep him happy.

If that was the case, though, Adam had a feeling he was going to be in the hospital for a long time. Bits and pieces of the last two years had started to drift through his head, but nothing huge. The best he'd get were images and sometimes feelings to go along with them if he was lucky. The one good thing about that was his jig-saw memories confirmed what he felt for Joan, as whenever he'd see a past image of her, his heart would start to race and his mind would get really hazy. Strangely, a few images of her invoked other strong feelings, such as betrayal or regret. He was afraid to ask what these might mean.

The two weeks had been good as well, though. He spent a lot of time talking with Joan and Grace during the day, and his dad during the night. Luke also took that time to begin explaining science to him, though he started with AP Chemistry instead of AP Physics. He would only say simple things, mostly to see if they registered anything in Adam's memory. He'd had no luck so far, but he wasn't going to give up.

On this particular day, one week after he woke up and two after his accident, neither Luke nor Grace was around. Neither had told Joan what was going on, only that they were doing something together. Adam ventured a guess that they were off having some time to themselves, but the idea of the two of them being a couple was still an odd thing to wrap his mind around. He still had Joan, though, so he didn't mind that they'd taken the day for themselves.

Adam tried to enjoy himself as well, but he wasn't relaxing very easily. He kept on trying to recall the accident, or any of the proceeding moments, but all he got was a dark time. It annoyed him to no end, especially because he kept remembering a soft, angelic voice, telling him it would watch over him. The voice sounded exceedingly familiar, but he just couldn't seem to place it.

"Adam?" He turned to see Joan eying him. "You were out in another world again. You're doing that a lot more than usual today." She looked him up and down with concern. "Are you feeling okay? You know you can talk to me?"

And he shot straight up with realization. The temporary pain it caused him was nothing in compared to the revelation he'd just made. "That's it!" He yelled in excitement. Before Joan could even ask him what was going on, he turned to her and asked in a low voice, "Jane, did I even tell you I can talk to angels?"

Joan nodded. "Yeah. You told me it was a metaphor for how you got your inspiration. What does this have to do with –?"

"But, Jane," Adam persisted, talking over her, "what if I was wrong?" That silenced her. "What it wasn't just a metaphor?"

Joan was obviously caught off guard, because she had no answer for a moment. "A-Adam, what would make you think _that_?"

"Because," Adam continued in an out of place energized voice, "I remember a girl."

"A girl?" Joan repeated skeptically.

"Cha!" Adam nodded, ignoring Joan's tone of voice. "Well, her voice. It was before I woke up, but after freshmen graduation. She was talking to me, a-and she said she talked to God." The color drained from Joan's face. "She said that she prayed for me, and that I was gonna remember everything and she was told she could help me or something and she'd be watching over me and- and everything like that!" Adam realized he was on the brink of rambling, but he didn't care. "I think she was an angel."

"O-okay…" Joan mumbled. "But what makes you so sure of that now?"

"I knew her voice was familiar, but I couldn't really place it," Adam explained with growing excitement. "A-and just now, suddenly it just _hit_ me!" He looked her straight in the eye. "_You're_ the angel, Jane."

Joan coughed, but it quickly turned into an unsteady laugh. "M-me? An angel?" She let out another unconvincing laugh. "Adam, be serious now. _Nothing_ about me is heavenly."

"I don't think that," Adam murmured softly, making her blush. "Jane, I know what I heard. It was you. Why don't you believe me?"

Joan leaned forward and looked at him with a completely serious face. "I-I believe that you heard something, and if you think it's an angel that's good enough for me, but I did not- I am not an angel, Adam. I'm just … Joan." Her face softened when his turned downcast. "Or Jane. Nothing else, okay?"

Adam nodded slowly. "Okay." A suspicion still rose in the back of his mind, but he pushed it down. If Joan said she wasn't an angel, then he believed her.

No matter how much he thought it was true.

* * *

The uncomfortable moment and bad feelings were far from Adam's mind as Joan, Grace, and Luke sat in his room, studying and chatting on a beautiful Saturday. Finals started the next week, and the three of them wanted to be prepared. Well, Luke and Joan did, and Grace figured it would be more productive if she did too; Adam had yet to understand that logic, and reasoned it was Grace's way of saying she actually wanted to study. Despite the massive studying – or cramming for Joan and Grace –, this was a good day, and Adam wanted to keep it that way. Two weeks of being cooped up in a hospital room was _not _a fun experience.

"I am totally going to fail," Joan declared in a defeated tone, shoving the Algebra II textbook away from her with her index finger. She slumped back in her chair, hitting her head against its back in a steady rhythm. "Everything. Completely."

"Naw, you'll do great," Adam encouraged. She shot him a withering look and he sunk in his bed.

Joan frowned guiltily. "Sorry. I guess all this 'Junior-year-stress' is getting to me."

"The stress is there because you make it there," Grace advised, not looking up from her textbook. "If you want it gone, it's gone."

Everyone stared at her. "That was oddly philosophical, Grace." Joan commented in a far-too-casual tone.

Grace gave all of them pointed glares and replied, "I _do_ know things. I just don't go around showing it off like a medal or something." Luke seemed to squirm at this statement, and Grace revised her words. "Just because I don't apply myself doesn't mean I'm not smart."

"We never said that, yo," Adam defended.

Grace groaned, letting the prior subject die. "I told you, I was _joking_ about the 'yo' thing." A few days previous, Grace joked that Adam might remember more things if he added 'yo' to the end of his sentences like he did in the beginning of sophomore year. Adam, however, didn't take it as a joke and started doing just that. "You don't actually have to say 'yo'."

Adam shrugged. "I'll let it run its course. If it doesn't take, I'll drop it."

"It won't." Grace and Joan guaranteed simultaneously. They looked at each other for a moment, and then went back to their books.

Adam shrugged again, not answering this time. He just decided to enjoy their company, even though most of it was silent. They'd had plenty of time to talk in the last few weeks, and even Friedman and Glynis came around to say hello. The six of them in that small room felt really weird, but also almost right.

It wasn't until much later that they started to converse again. Joan stated that if she did any more studying her brain would explode, and Grace seconded that notion. Luke surprisingly agreed as well, saying that there was only so much of a good thing one could take.

And Adam asked an astonishingly bold question.

* * *

"Did I ever have a girlfriend?" Adam's question came out of completely nowhere and hit Joan over the head like a slab of cement.

She sputtered and blinked, grateful that she was sitting farther from his bed than usual. She stood up and turned away from him, pretending to rummage through her bag for something. "Wh-what? Where did that come from?"

"Just something I've been wondering for awhile," Adam replied innocently. Didn't seem like he suspected anything…

Grace snorted with an amused look on her face. "Yeah, Adam Rove: breaking hearts and taking names."

Adam responded to this with a mystified glance and almost hurt eyes. Joan gave Grace a pointed look and shook her head when she was sure Adam wasn't looking. Grace replied with a look of her own and stood up. She crossed the room to Joan and grabbed her arm. "Excuse us for a moment." The two girls went to the far side of the room, next to the window.

Joan was vaguely aware that Adam glanced over at them, and then he must've looked at Luke as well, for her brother stated, "Oh, I'm staying out of this one. A scientist knows when not to test his theories."

"Girardi, I thought you were going to ease him into your history with him!" Grace hissed in a whisper.

"I-I am!" Joan promised unconvincingly. "I just haven't gotten around to it yet!"

Grace seemed to be having a hard time holding in a desire to either shout or rip Joan's head off – she couldn't tell which. "It's been _two weeks_ since he woke up! You haven't even told him about Iris!"

"I don't see why I have to mention her," Joan replied airily. She found the scenery outside very interesting. Adam really had gotten a wonderful room. She could even see the park in the distance…

"If you don't say something to Rove, I _will_," Grace swore defiantly.

"Grace!" Joan cried, nearly forgetting to keep her voice soft.

"It's _his_ life, Girardi," Grace reminded. "You may have been a part of it, and heck, you still may _be_ a part of it, but I am too, and I think he has a right to know."

"Grace, please," pleaded Joan. "I-I'll tell him, I promise, but just … when the time is right," she finished lamely. Grace didn't seem to be backing down. Joan fixed her with a beseeching stare. "I _promise_. I just… It's a hard subject. _Please_."

Grace lasted nearly half a minute before she gave in. "You've got to tell him everything, understand?" Joan looked at her feet. "Girardi…"

"What do I say when we get to Bonnie?" Joan asked pathetically. Grace couldn't give her an answer. She had none.

They went back to the group, and Adam's question remained unrequited. He didn't press the subject anymore, and Joan was grateful.

It came up again, though, much time later, and this time Joan was responsible.

* * *

None of Adam's friends could drop by at all for the next week. Finals sapped away all their time and drained all their energy. Joan wanted to go and see him more than anything, but every time she found a scrap of time to, his unanswered question echoed in her mind, taunting her and prodding her. She was afraid he'd ask it again, and this time she'd have to answer.

She didn't really want to answer.

It was Friday afternoon, and Joan had just arrived at the bookstore for her shift. Work was a good excuse for why she couldn't go and visit Adam, but it still made her feel guilty. Every time she tried to tell herself it was for his own good and only until she could get her story straight, his lonely face sprang into her mind and she only felt worse.

"Feeling pensive, Joan?" Joan couldn't suppress a groan as she looked up to see a teenager with spiky hair and black make-up. God's Goth Kid persona.

Joan sighed. "Why do You like asking me that if You already know how I'm feeling?"

"Because it's better to ask questions rather than keep everything in," He answered in a cryptic way. Oh, but Joan was getting good at figuring those out.

"Look, I know what You're telling me," Joan began.

"Then why don't you act on it?" God asked, sounding genuinely questioning. She knew better.

Joan let out a small noise of annoyance. "You _know_ why I don't act on it!"

"You're afraid." God stated.

"Yes! I'm afraid! Of course I'm afraid!" Joan cried. "Fear's a big thing! You know this; You've _told_ me!"

"But you shouldn't let fear stop you from doing what you want." God reminded.

"I'm not," Joan maintained, though more to herself than to Him. "I'm just getting my thoughts together before talking to him. Is that so wrong?"

"No," God admitted, "but leaving out the part you don't want to mention? That is. A bit."

Joan's eye twitched. She would never get anywhere with these sorts of discussions. "It's good if he doesn't know. That … incident only caused pain. Now the pain's gone."

"Hiding it doesn't make it untrue, Joan." He warned. "Sooner or later it'll come up, and it won't be pretty."

Joan snorted. She wasn't going to let Him intimidate her. "Is that a sure thing?"

"It's common sense," God countered.

The tension hung in the air for a moment before Joan turned her attention to the computer. "Look, if you don't have a new mission for me or something –"

"Talk to Adam." God interjected.

"Fine." Joan declared, unable to keep arguing with the Almighty. "I will. I'll talk to him tomorrow. I'll even tell him about what he and I had."

God wasn't finished, though. "I want you to tell him everything."

"E-everything?" Joan faltered. He nodded. "Why?"

"We've already gone over that," God responded with a slight smile. "You know he's going to remember it all in due time, so why not let it out now? It'll be easier on him."

Joan shook her head defiantly. "You gave us free will right? Well, I'm acting on it. This isn't a commandment, it's a suggestion, and I'm going to do what I think is best." She gave Him a decisive look. At that moment, the door opened and a customer walked in. He was rather good looking, but far too old for Joan, probably in his early thirties. She added in an undertone, "I have a customer."

God stepped away from the counter and walked away, not even bothering to give Joan His usual wave, which she found odd. What was ever odder was the fact that the new man and God exchanged a not-so-friendly glance. The tension was still thick in the air when He left. The man, however, looked at Joan with such calming eyes that she couldn't help but forget about the crackling hostility.

"I was hoping to find you here," the man said with a cool air.

"Should I know you?" Joan asked, feeling stupid as she did. The last three weeks had been so exhausting that she should've felt justified not knowing who someone was.

The man laughed. "No, not really." He extended a hand and introduced himself. "I'm Ryan Hunter. I was the one who paid for your friend's treatment."

Joan immediately took the hand offered and straightened up, suddenly feeling like she was in the presence of someone God-like – she _hated_ herself for making that analogy. "O-oh! Hi! Um, thank you so much!" She stumbled over her words and shook Ryan's hand rigorously.

"Don't mention it," Ryan responded, still with his composed atmosphere. "I was glad to help. How is he, by the way?"

"Adam? He's doing better," Joan responded. "We hope to have him out soon, but you never know with those hospitals, heh." She wasn't good at making small talk.

Ryan either didn't catch that or didn't care. "Well, I'm glad I could help, nonetheless. I'm sure he means a lot to you, Joan." He smiled in an almost charming way. "I'll be seeing you around."

It was only after he left that Joan realized she'd never given her name, nor had she been around when Mr. Hunter was at the hospital. Her parents had told her he hadn't been there long enough to get anyone's name as well. She'd had contact with God long enough to know that there was always something unnatural about someone knowing her name before she told them. The recollection of his last smile sent a slight chill down Joan's spine.

And with all this in her mind, the memory of the last time she hadn't listened to God still hadn't registered.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Joan was in an incredibly paranoid and irritated mood. This new man – Ryan Hunter – knew her name. She could be reading into things too much, but that wasn't a natural thing. He seemed to have some sort of problem with God, too, and _that_ was something to be worried about, unless she was mistaken about that look the two had exchanged. Top it all off with God's latest "suggestion" and that gave her right to be in a foul mood.

Anger and fear seemed to disappear Saturday morning, leaving only anxiety. She couldn't very well keep on dodging Adam; he was going to know something was up, and she missed him a bit. Besides, Ryan Hunter couldn't get to her in a hospital, right?

Of course, that was where he first turned up… No, Joan decided while walking into the building. She couldn't dwell on unpleasant occurrences.

Therefore, the sight of the Doctor God avatar standing outside Adam's room greatly annoyed her.

"I don't want to talk to You right now," Joan growled, trying to push her way past Him.

"No, you do." He stated. "You want to ask me questions."

"Questions that I know you won't answer," Joan added, grouching as she did. "You want me to find out on my own."

"But I owe you as much, don't I?" God responded, echoing Joan's words from weeks prior.

She froze. "What?"

"I owe you an answer," He continued, "when the one you seek is not one attainable."

"B-but I thought You don't answer questions?" Joan asked, confused.

God's serene look made her temporarily regret her harsh words in the past. "I never said that, did I?"

Joan took a deep breath. "So- so Ryan Hunter… Who is he?"

"A connection," God told her. "To both you and Myself."

Joan gulped. "You talk to him?" She had her suspicions, but it was still unnerving to learn. "So there are others out there like me?"

"I talked to him, yes," God responded, ignoring her second question. That one was probably one he couldn't give a reply to. "He and I … disagreed on many subjects."

"But how can one disagree with You?" Joan asked with a half-laugh. "You're God."

"That doesn't stop you, though," God reminded. Joan looked away in embarrassment. "Ryan disagreed with me in a … bigger sense." For some reason, the words seemed to come out hesitantly. Joan had a feeling she wasn't going to like the end of this answer. "He and I… We do not talk very easily anymore."

"So then why did he come looking for me?" Joan inquired. "Why did he help Adam? If he knows who I am – and I _know_ he does – then why doesn't he just stay away from another God-talker?"

"Because I told to take a hike in the woods," God replied with a concluding sort of tone, "and he declined."

Joan's eyes widened. "He… You sent him to save Adam?" Her throat constricted and she could barely say another word. "And he refused?" She felt fury rise in her throat with the sorrow and pain. "Why didn't You make him? You knew this was going to happen to Adam, so why didn't You make him?!"

"Free will, Joan." God looked at her with an almost apologetic look. "I could not go against free will."

Joan's eyes burned as she glowered at the Heavenly Being. Now everything He had said from the day they'd found Adam made sense. She hated it. "S-so Adam's in there because of him? This doesn't have any greater meaning?" God stayed silent, letting Joan get out her rage. "And his coming here to pay for Adam's treatment – was that You too, or his own version of a sick joke?"

God shook His head. "Ryan discovered what happened and he wanted to –"

Joan didn't want to hear it. "No. No I won't listen to You make excuses for him. You've spent the last two years telling me about free will and decisions and the better choice and consequences, and now You're going to take all of that back?!"

"There are still all of those, Joan, but Ryan made a wrong choice," God told her, putting His hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off harshly. "And Adam had to pay." Hot tears made their way down her face, but she did nothing to wipe them away. She pushed passed Him to the door and this time He did nothing to stop her. All her reading into this had been wrong. Adam's accident wasn't supposed to happen.

So maybe anything that came of it was wrong too.

* * *

Adam was lucky to be in a part of the hospital that often didn't get many shouting – and often concerned – loved ones. For the most part, things were quite peaceful. That was why it was startling and confusing to hear shouting right outside his door, and what was more is that the one shouting was Joan. He had an increasingly unpleasant feeling that she had been purposely avoiding him these last few days, even though the subject of junior finals was a very valid excuse, so hearing her voice was both a relief and a shock. For the life of him though, he couldn't figure out why she would be shouting, especially right outside his room.

Curious, Adam strained his ears to catch parts of the conversation.

"…You knew this was going to happen to Adam, so why didn't you make him?!" Joan's muffled voice asked in an angry tone. Someone knew about his accident in advance? How was that even possible?

The next voice was softer, so Adam could only catch a few words, "Free will, Joan. … against free will." He didn't recognize it at all, but somehow there was an odd familiarity in it.

Joan's words were softer as well. "…because of him?" … have any greater meaning?" Her voice got louder and he could hear her much better. "And his coming here to pay for Adam's treatment – was that you too, or his own version of a sick joke?"

Adam's father had told him a man named Ryan Hunter had funded his trip to the hospital, but no one knew why. Could Joan have discovered something about this mysterious man?

The voice of the man Joan was speaking to was too soft to hear, but it didn't seem to matter because she cut him off suddenly. Adam only could tell that she was disagreeing with whatever the man had said, and he longed to hear more. Then, she started yelling again, louder than she had been before. "You've spent the last two years telling me about free will and decisions and the better choice and consequences, and now you're going to take all of that back?!"

Words that followed were stifled, and Adam could hear nothing more. His mind reeled. Who could Joan have been talking to? From the way she addressed him, it almost seemed like he was powerful, powerful enough to have prevented his accident, from her first audible words, but there was no earthly person that had that much power. Who could it have been? The thought nearly drove him crazy!

And suddenly his mind drifted back to the angelic voice he'd heard in his sleep and the conversation with Joan he'd had nearly one week ago. _God?_

Adam didn't have time to ponder this incredibly unlikely possibility, for the door opened and in walked Joan. The half-closed blinds cast shadows on her disgruntled face, amplifying her mood. Oddly, she didn't walk to her usual chair next to Adam's bed, but instead crossed the room to stand near the window, her back turned to his sight.

Mental alarms alerted Adam that now might not be the best time to talk about the conversation he heard, but his curiosity got the better of him.

"Jane?" He started tentative, yet concerned. "Are you okay? I heard you shouting outside and-"

"Don't call me that anymore." Interrupted Joan in an abnormally callous tone.

It was unfamiliar and nearly frightening. Adam squirmed uncomfortably and said in response, "But you told me you wanted me to call you Jane. You liked it."

"Well, now I don't!" She snapped back.

Adam felt an icy chill through his veins. This was _not_ the Joan he'd come to know during the past three weeks. "Jane, what's –?"

"I told you not to call me that!" Joan barked suddenly. "Just don't!"

Hurt and mystified, Adam groped for an answer. "Why? What's so bad about calling you Jane? You _told_ me to call you that! Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"Because you called me it when we were dating!" Joan yelled, spinning around to face him. Adam could now see the tears that ran down her face, the ones that she was probably trying to hold back.

"D-dating?" Adam choked out.

"Yes, dating! And some time before that, too!" She roughly yet futilely wiped her face before continuing. "You- you had this stupid little nickname for me and I thought I hated it because you couldn't remember my name, but really," She held back a sob and her shoulder shook, "really, I loved it. It made you unique, a-and it made me special. Even when you went out with Iris, this high-voiced girl in your art class, you still called me Jane, and I thought it meant you still … _liked_ me." She held down another cry and a brief smile crossed her face. "A-and you did! You broke up with her for me, and w-we kissed." She closed her eyes, letting tears escape them. "Last year, April 2nd, on the porch in front of my house." Her voice was distant and wavering, as if the memory was happy and sad at the same time.

Adam's voice seemed to have taken a vacation and all he could do was sit there and stare at her dumbly. His mind was numb, and his heart was throbbing painfully. It was all far too much to take in.

Joan's eyes opened and the smile started to disappear. "We had our problems, but we were still together. Not even a summer apart could keep us from," a hitch broke Joan's voice but she continued, her eyes brighter than ever, "l-loving each other. So many things seemed to get in our way, but we wouldn't let it destroy us. Then you-" Joan 's voice shook more than it did before and her eyes grew wide, "Then you tried t-to have sex with me," Adam's stomach turned abruptly and it made him feel sick, "a-and I refused, and we tried so hard to continue as we had, b-but we'd grown so far apart and I don't know what was going through your stupid head but then you- you _cheated_ on me with this _artistic slut_ named Bonnie!" Joan visibly shuddered and moved her arms up to hug herself. Adam's stomach now did a summersault, and his heart nearly stopped.

"I-I did what?" He breathed, finally able to find his strangled voice.

"You slept with her!" Joan clarified devastatingly. "Several times! You knew her for a few weeks, and still, in that short time, you … _slept_ with her!" Adam's speech was gone again, and his mental comprehension with it. He was dimly aware that he too was crying now, but that didn't matter. "I-I wanted so bad to hate you. I wanted to make you hurt so much, like you'd done to me." Her unbearable voice cut deep. "I tried. I tried so hard, but I just couldn't. I-I loved you too much.

"We tried to just be friends – t-to start over, but you were so stupid and started acting like nothing had happened," a flash a pain crossed Joan's face as she continued, "a-and you were so busy cheating on me th-that you got fired and when you told me, I-I snapped at you and said we couldn't be friends. The next morning you-" She swallowed hard and nearly choked on her words. "The next morning you went hiking and it was raining and Grace said no one could find you because you'd been gone all day and-"

"-And I got hurt." Adam finished faintly. Joan nodded, her body jerking suddenly as she did so. All of a sudden, Adam felt very sick. He became light-headed and his mouth went dry. Joan's words echoed agonizingly through his head. '_You _cheated_ on me… You slept with her!'_ Goosebumps formed up and down his arms, as if ice was running through his veins. '_You _cheated_ on me… You slept with her!'_

Joan's sudden gasp made Adam's mind drift back to the hospital room. His eyes darted to her face and saw that she looked about as ill as he felt. "Th-that wasn't the way I wanted to tell you," her voice was soft and remorseful – the cruel girl from before was nowhere to be found. She admitted hesitantly, "Some things I didn't even _want_ to tell you. I thought if I could just slowly tell you about our good times, then you wouldn't remember what- what you did." She took a deep breath as if to try and cleanse the dreadful memory from her mind. "Or maybe I was trying to just ignore it because of how close I came t-to losing you. M-maybe I was trying to convince myself that it didn't matter, but it does, a-and I can't stop hiding that."

Adam was staring at her, his eyes far away and his lips dry. "S-so… I really… I really cheated on you?" Joan nodded sadly, probably not wanting to verbally answer. He slowly sat up and gripped his head with his left hand. "W-we had this … wonderful relationship and I- I ruined it. I completely … _ruined_ it."

Joan was suddenly sitting in her chair again, right by his side. "Adam," she started. Maybe she wanted to make him feel better. He wouldn't give her that option.

He removed his hand and looked her in the eyes. "But I did, didn't I? What I did … it- I _cheated_ on you." He could barely believe the words were coming out of his mouth. He continued in a painful whisper, "If I did such a horrible thing … maybe I don't even deserve to remember."

"Stop." Joan's hand wrapped around his and she looked him square in the eyes. "You hurt me, and that's never going to go away, but- but that doesn't erase the fact that you made me so happy, too." She bit back a laugh, a genuine one this time. "I never thought I'd care about someone so much that I couldn't bring myself to even hate them. Trying to forget it ever happened doesn't mean it'll go away. We can't just go back and redo everything, no matter how much we want to." She smiled in an odd way and continued, "We can't try and- and re-knit our lives. All we can do is keep on going, and know that we're still connected, just in a different way. No matter what happens, we just have to be happy knowing we'll still have more good times, just like the ones we had." Somehow, the odd metaphors made some sort of sense, but Adam still didn't feel secure.

"But what if I _can't_ remember? Or what if when I get my memory back, I can't remember the good times you're talking about?" He demanded in a hoarse voice. "What if it's like my punishment or something?"

Joan shook her head. "No, Adam, you _will_ remember," Joan confirmed adamantly.

Adam pulled his hand away from hers, suddenly feeling sick again. "How can you tell me that? You don't know what's going to happen; what if I have to do that to make up for all the bad I've done?"

"I _know_, Adam," Joan pressed. "You're going to remember. Everything."

"How do you know that?" Adam questioned, looking away from her. His response was silence, just as he expected. She couldn't give him an answer.

At least, that's what he thought.

"Remember that voice you heard while you were unconscious?" Joan asked in a small voice. "You said it talked to God, and that you thought it was me." Adam turned his gaze back to her, his eyes wide in disbelief. Joan leaned forward and her voice became quieter, but somehow Adam could hear every word clear as day. "You were right, Adam; you were completely and totally … right."

His mind reeled. "You… I was … right?"

Joan nodded. "Yeah. You were," she confirmed. "God, um, comes to me. He – o-or sometimes She – talks to me and tells me to do all these crazy things, but it all just seems to work out. He told me in his own cryptic way that you'd get better, and I have to help you."

"And … that person you were yelling at before you came in here?" Adam asked, the scattered conversation suddenly making so much more sense to him. Joan nodded, letting him absorb this new revelation.

"He's the reason I was sent to crazy camp, too," She added in a soft tone. "I told you, and, well … I guess the outcome's kind of obvious."

Something seemed different about her as she spoke. Adam's eyes widened as he realized what it was, and he suddenly felt sicker than he'd been before. His next words were filled with pained resignation. "I cheated on someone who talks to God."

Joan apparently hadn't anticipated this because she suddenly grabbed his hand again and replied in a quickened panicky way, "No, no, no, no, no, _Adam_." She fixed him with a strong look. "It is _not_ like that." She couldn't help a bit of laughter from drifting into her voice. "Everything I told you before was true too. I'm just me – crazy, klutzy, sub-defective me, and not even talking to God is going to change that. I'm not some sort of … Saint or something. I'm Joan."

Her words got through to him and he nodded shakily. "So … this wasn't a," Adam paused, thinking over his next words, "Divine payment for what I did?"

"No, Adam," Joan replied. "He doesn't work like that."

Adam was silent for a moment, and then, in another distressed whisper, "Why did He take my mom?"

Joan was obviously caught off guard. "I… I don't know why. He's never told me why she d-died, but He never took her, Adam."

Adam swallowed said, "We're close, Joan, so you must know that my mom's dead," his own words made him tense up, "a-and how she-" He blinked back tears and nearly choked on his words. "What did I do to deserve _that_?"

"Nothing," Joan insisted gently. "Stop talking like that."

Adam didn't hear her- he was too lost in his own mutterings. "Why did she have to if … unless I really _do_ ruin everything?" _I'll ruin whatever we have again,_ Adam added silently, his unspoken fears bombarding his mind. _I'll ruin whatever you give us the chance to have._

"We read your letter," Joan told him abruptly, halting all of Adam's hateful thoughts. "My mom read it to you, and I was there, and-" Her thumb brushed his palm meaningfully, "-you made her life happy, Adam. That wasn't your fault."

A lone tear rolled down his cheek, but a small child-like smile crossed his lips. "Really?"

Joan smiled and squeezed his hand. "Unchallenged."

And then they were holding each other; the scenario from weeks prior was suddenly repeated, except this time Adam was the one who initiated it. He gripped her tightly, and she responded by rubbing his back soothingly and whispering words of comfort. All the exhausting revelations had taken away all of his will to hold back his tears, and he didn't even care that Joan was seeing them.

Even the knowledge of his horrible sin was pushed to the back of his mind, for he now knew, completely and truly, that his mom had loved him.

* * *

Was the sky bluer when Joan walked out of the hospital? Was the sun shining brighter, the grass looking greener? Maybe it was that the looming clouds that had been there that morning were gone. Whether it was one of those possibilities or some other occurrence, something seemed to make the world brighter. It could've been that Joan herself felt happier – no, more at peace – now. Her serene atmosphere may very well have been contagious, or maybe it just made everything seem better.

The strain of the repeated revelations had worn Adam out, and before he had even stopped crying, he was fast asleep. Joan left him to rest and scribbled out a quick note saying she'd gone to work and would be back to see him the next day. She would've come back once her shift was over, but then Mr. Rove would be getting off his job, and night time was his time to see Adam. She gave a quick call to Grace, telling her that Adam was sleeping peacefully and visits weren't advisable at the moment. Joan assumed she would pass the message along to anyone who would visit him.

By the time she had arrived at the bookstore, she was nearly late for her shift. She had to walk because she decided against driving to the hospital – it would give her more time to reason out what she would say to Adam when he asked her why she'd been evading him, she had rationalized.

"Sorry, sorry," Joan exclaimed before Sammy could reproach her for not being early, "Running a bit late from the hospital."

Her boss was already packing his belongings up; he must have seen her while she was walking down the block. "How's the boyfriend today?" He asked in almost-genuine interest.

Every time Joan came from visiting Adam, Sammy asked the same question, and Joan responded with the same reminder: "_Ex_-boyfriend, Sammy." This time, however, she didn't take any mind. "Better. He doesn't remember anything else, but I think it'll all start coming back soon."

"Good." Sammy said simply, walking passed Joan. He never gave any other sort of response, but Joan got the feeling that he was covering up sincere compassion every now and then. "Lock up on your way out."

Joan nearly snorted. "I always do," she called after him. No use. He was already at his car. She let it die.

"And how are you feeling, Joan?" A young voice asked from deeper in the bookstore.

Joan turned and walked toward the direction of the voice, already knowing who it was. A little girl with glasses and an antenna headband sat in the children's corner, smiling up at her with a large book on her lap – probably some sort of theological essay book, Joan figured. "You really don't need to ask me anything anymore, You know." Joan commented nonchalantly.

"I know," She replied.

Joan let out a small laugh. "How am I feeling? Good, I guess." She paused and rephrased her answer. "_Relieved_. Why is that?"

"No one can go on while holding in a lie, Joan, even if you think that lie is needed." God explained. "To be able to fully accept someone, you have to take everything, good and bad. Hiding your relationship from Adam meant you weren't ready to accept him. You were running from your problems instead of confronting them."

"And it really did some good to tell him everything?" Joan asked. "I didn't really even tell him anything he didn't know. He'll remember it all in the long run, so what's the difference?"

"Understanding," God replied, flipping through Her book.

"Huh?"

God continued looking through the massive tome as she explained, "Adam can understand you better now. A different kind of view gives a new perspective. His mindset is not the same as it was before, so he can look at the situation in a different way." Joan understood, sort of. She didn't need to say anything more, because God added something more to her enlightenment. "Adam couldn't fully accept himself either. He'll hurt for awhile, but when this is all over, he can begin to forgive himself." She sent Joan a meaningful look. "And you can forgive him too."

"It's that simple?" Questioned Joan as she leaned against a nearby bookcase.

"Nothing's simple. You had to come a long way to get to where you are." God corrected knowingly. "Tragedy and pain can cause you to regress, but you must move on to ensure happiness."

"'The illusion dies so something deeper can take its place'," Joan quoted softly in response. God smiled wider, showing Her tiny teeth. "Is that why you wanted me to explain everything to Adam, because we can move on now?"

The Almighty put down Her book. "Not move on. Moving on implies leaving behind what happened." God disagreed.

"So … we start again?" Joan tried.

God sighed. "Haven't you learned by now? Forgetting a problem ever happened doesn't mean it's gone. You have to _acknowledge_ what happened – accept it and learn. Only then can things change." She shifted, moving into an Indian-style position. "Philosopher George Santayana said it best, I think: 'those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it'. It works with everything, from wars to love."

Joan frowned contemplatively. "Study my relationship with Adam?"

"In a sense," God confirmed, "Except not in the way you're familiar with." Joan opened her mouth to ask another question, but God continued before she could get it out. "Don't worry, Joan. You have all the time you need to make things right." She smiled at her again and added, "That scarf of yours is coming along quite well."

Joan made an annoyed face. "You're a few weeks late on that. You're all-seeing. You should know this."

"I'm not talking about _that_ scarf," God put in, shaking her head.

Now standing instead of leaning, Joan made a confused face. "What are you talking about, there's only one –" She paused and God gave her a meaningful look. The conversation they had had on the night Adam went missing rushed back into her mind, and she recalled the metaphor God had used. "Oh. _That_ scarf."

God nodded. "Connections exist long before we are aware of them. They always have. Always will," She added kindly, "no matter what gets in their way."

"It's never finished, huh?" Joan wanted to laugh and cry at the same time and she had no idea why.

"No," The Girl responded. She stood up and walked over to Joan. She took her hand in Her own comfortingly. "The connections will keep on going, and every person you're connected to will be affected by what you do."

"Like the ripples," Joan added with a soft smile.

God smiled, but subtler this time. "Everyone has their own scarf, Joan. Yours just needed to be re-stitched a little." She let go of Joan's hand and started to walk away, adding, "And it's a lot stronger now, too."

Joan almost let God leave, but then gasped slightly. "Oh, um, God?" She always felt weird addressing Her by Her name. Still, the Girl turned around all the same. "You aren't mad at me for telling Adam about You, right?"

"I told you before, Joan: You can tell anyone about me." She stayed still instead of continuing out, anticipating Joan's next question. "Yes?"

Joan bit her lip and then asked in a quiet tone, "Why did Adam believe me this time?"

"He believed you last time, too," God reminded. "It just took him awhile to accept it was the explanation that made the most sense."

Joan decided to rephrase her question. "Okay, then why didn't it take him longer to accept it?"

"When people have near-death experiences," Joan took in a sharp breath after the last words, "they are generally closer to Me and more open to My presence and spirituality," God explained. "They can acknowledge my existence more easily because they assume it is because I willed them to live that they did. It also helps if they hear a heavenly voice some time before they wake up," She added with what Joan swore was a glint of slyness. "_That's_ why Adam believed you." She smiled childishly, seemingly breaking Her divine persona, and walked out the door, giving Her messenger the wave as she did.

And Joan took her place at the register to get ready for work.

* * *

Adam had never been a religious boy. He went to Sunday school when he was little and sang all those songs about how Jesus loved everyone and God was a wonderful person, but he never really got into religion. When his mom died, he pretty much gave up on believing that there was a God, and if He did exist, He was a pretty spiteful spirit in Adam's eyes.

But now everything was different. God existed. He talked to Joan. He was _real_. Sunday suddenly had a significance.

So, for the first time in years, when Adam woke up Sunday morning, he decided to pray. He didn't ask for anything big or make some plea for world peace. All he asked was that he be forgiven for all the bad things he did, even if he didn't remember them. Cheating on Joan was a horrible thing. Finding out that she talked to God made that action even worse.

_She's not a Saint,_ Adam reminded himself. _She doesn't want me to think of her like that. She's Jane… Joan._

Joan had never told him if he was allowed to call her Jane again, and he didn't want to take a chance on getting her mad at him. He never wanted her to be mad at him. Not again.

Gentle creaking pulled Adam from his thoughts. He knew by now that the door to his room had old hinges, and in the back of his mind it drove him crazy. This time, however, a familiar face poked through the opening, and that made the annoying sound okay.

"Uh, J- hi." Adam stumbled over his words, unsure of what to say.

The last time she had been there, she'd revealed to him that they had a previous relationship, which he subsequently ruined, she talked to the Lord, and that his mother's suicide wasn't his fault. To top it all off, he'd fallen asleep crying in her arms. The only people he let see him cry were his father, his late mother, and Grace.

So understandably, Joan's presence made him feel awkward.

Apparently, Joan's wide, sheepish smile told him she felt otherwise. "Hey. Sorry to leave you yesterday, but I had to get to work." She squeezed through the small opening and closed the door slowly, probably not wanting to make it creak anymore. "You weren't lonely or anything, were you?"

Adam found his tongue and answered, pushing himself into a sitting position; he was allowed to use his right arm now – sparingly, of course – so this was much easier than it had been for the last two weeks. "No, no. I woke up a few minutes before my dad got here, so…no, I-I wasn't lonely." _Jane,_ part of his mind added silently. He wished he could beat that part up.

Joan took her seat and smiled. "Well, that's good. I would've come over earlier, but Mom wanted me to clean my room a bit." Her sheepishness returned. "It's gotten a little messy."

"O-oh." _"Oh?" Can you think of nothing else?_ Evidently she couldn't either, because they sat in silence for a few minutes. He was surprised he was the one that broke it. "Um, so –"

"I'm sorry I came out and told you everything yesterday," Joan blurted nervously. "You have your own stuff to think about, and I just made everything kind of worse and things are…weird between us now."

Adam was taken aback. Why was she apologizing? "N-no! I'm glad you told me about…you know…all that. You don't have to feel sorry." He absentmindedly set his hand on the metal bar lining his bed, right next to hers. His fingers inched over, barely touching her skin. "I-I like knowing, Joan."

Joan smiled for a second and then made a face. "'Joan'?" Adam nodded apprehensively and she shook her head. "_Jane_, Adam. Call me Jane." Her smile returned.

And his insides danced. His mouth twitched into a smile and he nearly chuckled. Then reality set back in and his face felt hot. Both of their hands slipped away, his next to his side, hers into her lap. More awkward silence. It was even more difficult to talk now than before! They both knew each other's most deeply guarded secret; that should make talking easier, right?

Was it because he knew that she actually felt something for him, that she liked him? _No, you heard what she said –she doesn't like you, she _loves_ you. _Adam decided against entertaining other theories.

"S-so what kind of things does, um, He ask you to do?" He hoped the look in his eyes would get the message across.

It did, because a tight smile crossed Joan's face. "Oh, everything."

"Everything?"

"_Everything._" A half-groan escaped her throat. "I've had to," Joan frowned for a second and started counting on her fingers, "join the chess club, try out for cheerleading, join a debate, ace a history test, work with kids, take in a stray cat, plant a garden, join a musical, study romantic poetry, take an interest in the school election, –" She noticed she had no more fingers left to count on and suddenly broke off with another half-groan, but turned this one into a sigh. Her head fell into her open hands.

Adam stared at her in shock. "Uh, wow," he sputtered. "All that?"

"And there's more," she mumbled through her fingers. She pulled her head back up as if it were on strings and added, "He recently told me to knit a scarf. I haven't really gotten any more 'assignments' from Him lately." She gasped slightly and continued, "And He told me to apply myself more! That was one of the first things He told me to do. How could I have forgotten _that_ one?" She asked more to herself than him. Adam gave her a curious look and she expanded on her self-berating attitude. "That was how I got into AP Chemistry and met you and Grace." She chuckled softly. "I got closer to Luke, too, after that. Plus I even met Glynis and Friedman and even the crazy teacher Ms. Lischak's helped me out once or twice!"

"All that came from one thing?" Adam questioned in disbelief.

Joan nodded. "Yeah, everything's connected. It's like the scarf or the ripples." Adam was lost, so she again elaborated. "The Almighty likes to use metaphors all the time. A decision one person makes can impact someone else, either positively or negatively. Then, that person can do something that affects other people too. These are like ripples in a lake or something." Adam nodded slowly and Joan laughed. "That's how I reacted too, but it makes more sense now. You even use that metaphor. I mentioned ripples a few times and it caught on, I suppose," Joan explained before Adam could ask anything.

"The scarf's a new one," Joan continued. "I think it's supposed to represent life and how everyone's connected somehow. Everyone has a scarf and all the scarves interconnect." She looked pleased with her explanation for a moment, but then she added in a less confident tone, "Or at least that's what I got."

"Anyway, AP Chem's gotten me a lot more than I would've thought." She smiled faintly, probably recalling past events. "I told Him I wanted friends or a boyfriend before He gave me the order, but I think it was more so I could get in the position to help you guys out with your problems and stuff." Her face turned contemplative. "Or maybe it was both. He tends to do that a lot too."

An unintentional knife twisted in Adam's chest. God Himself had sent Joan to him as a friend and girlfriend and maybe even a savior, and he'd thrown her away. "Horrible" didn't even describe his transgression now. A gentle prod on his arm made him turn to see Joan's fretful face.

"You okay? You look a little sick. Maybe I should go…" She began to stand up but Adam instinctively reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"No, wait." He murmured softly. He was screaming at himself inside. "I feel fine; you don't have to go." His eyes nearly pleaded with her and he felt so pathetic. How could he need someone so much that he'd beg her to stay even when he didn't have the right to make her? "You don't have to stay either, though," he added even softer. "Not if you…don't want to…"

Joan sat back down and slid her hand out of his loose grip. Instead of dropping her hand, she took his. He stared at them for a moment with mesmerized eyes. "Adam." He drifted up to her serious face. "It's okay. You don't have to beat yourself up." Was he that obvious? "I told you yesterday – we're still connected, and punishing yourself isn't going to change anything." She squeezed his hand in a near affectionate way. "We keep going, okay? Promise me that you aren't going to keep doing this to yourself."

Adam glanced away, dodging her question. "I thought you said you wanted me to hurt."

Joan bit her lip hesitantly. "I-I did, but not anymore. So…promise me. Please?"

Their eyes were locked again and Adam nodded slowly. "Yeah. Cha, I promise." A ghost of a smile appeared on her face, and he knew one was one his as well. Perhaps it was from his subconscious – a place where the memories of their time together still laid dormant –, recalling the bond they once had. "So…what now?" They both knew the implications behind the question; he had strong feelings for her, and he knew she felt the same, but it was too soon – or maybe even impossible – to continue what they had.

Joan sighed, but her smile grew into something real. "I don't know. We just take things one step at a time."

That answer worked for Adam.

**End of Act III**

* * *

Author's notes: Again, sorry about the slight delay. I must say, that long revelations scene between Adam and Joan was emotionally exhausting to write. Hope it wasn't like that to read. I had to stop writing it several times, which is probably another reason why I didn't have this act up as soon as I got home from school (or even before).

Anyway, as usual, give me comments. Next week's act will be up so much sooner, because I have Monday off and thus if I procrastinate/can't get the act finished during the week, I'll have all of Sunday night to work on it instead of having to go to bed. Tell me what you think of this one – I debatably had the hardest time writing it, even though it was completely planned out.

And next week will be the last chapter, too. My, I've come a long way. Could I actually _finish_ a chapter story for once? Dear me, it's unheard of!

Digital-Dragon-Master

"Digi-Dragon"

(Ashley)


	4. Binding Off

Author's notes: I never thought I'd get here. The last chapter. Wow. Seems like it was so long ago when I began this story. ;sigh; Well, there's time for reminiscing later – you guys are all here to see the conclusion, aren't you? What could happen next? Adam knows everything Joan had been withholding from him, including the information about God, his current self is at peace with his mother's death (well, as at peace as the boy can ever be, at least), and Joan's finally understanding what the heck the scarf was for.

What's left? … Well, I'm sure at least some of you have figured it out. ;cat-like grin; For the rest, sit back and read. Questions will be answered in this chapter.

You'll notice I used some lines from the last two episodes in here, or ones pretty darn close to the originals. That's because... I can't rewrite this show to save my life and some of the things they have are basically what I wanted to say, especially when putting the characters in similar situations. There. That's all you get. Now read.

Disclaimer: I still have yet to own anything relating to Joan of Arcadia. What's left of my sanity is currently slipping away staring at pictures of Chris Marquette, which I also do not own – both pictures and person. I'm not even sure I own my soul/sanity.

* * *

**Reversing the Stitches**

Binding Off

Monday afternoon found Joan, Grace, and Luke heading off to the hospital once again. They had dashed out of the school as soon as they could, mostly to get away from Mr. Price and his infinite lectures. They didn't have to return to the confines of the building for three months, though, and that alone was worth bearing his mandatory end of the year speech.

Joan was in the best mood of them all. She had spent all of Sunday afternoon chatting with Adam, mostly explaining her missions from God in more detail. Her good mood continued even after she left the hospital, and became so extreme that Luke and Kevin joked that she'd gone crazy again; Will and Helen didn't appreciate that and told them so.

"Girardi, you're freaking me out again," Grace stated evenly as Joan broke into a near-skip. "You shouldn't be this happy."

Joan turned and made a face. "You should be happier. You guys haven't seen Adam in nearly a week, remember?" It was true. The two hadn't been able to make the trip the day before, and finals prevented any visiting during the week. "He'll be so psyched to see you!"

"He'd be more psyched if that hospital released him," Luke pointed out idly. "His arm is healing right, so he should be able to get around on his own."

"They say they need to keep him for more observation or something," Joan quoted with a snort. "Maybe Adam was right when he said they're keeping him until he regains his memory."

Grace smirked slightly. "Rove's gonna get pretty sick of that room if that's the case."

"Oh, trust me," Joan assured sardonically, "he's already sick of it."

* * *

Joan was very right, Luke and Grace soon discovered. When they entered Adam's room, they found him trying to balance a pencil on his nose and strangely succeeding. He didn't seem pleased with his accomplishment, either. He glanced at the trio and titled his head down to let the pencil roll off before stretching his stiff-looking neck.

"How long have you been doing that?" Joan voiced incredulously.

"Ten minutes," Adam deadpanned. "Straight." His visitors held back a wince. "What took you guys so long?"

"We got out earlier than usual," Grace reminded warningly. "You could've done something else while waiting. Wandered the halls or something."

Adam slumped drearily. "They're still keeping me in this room."

Luke frowned. "Even if you're in a wheelchair?"

Adam replied with a dull nod. "They don't want me to damage my arm."

"But…it's a wheelchair." Luke frowned deeper. "You've been here for weeks. You should be able to get around."

Adam shrugged. "Tell that to them." His gaze seemed to add a small, _seriously, please, tell them_.

Grace threw Adam a sigh and a shrug and heaved herself onto the sofa. "Well, if you can't move your arm you have to stay here. Sucks, Rove, but that's just common sense."

Adam sat up straight and scowled. "I can too move my arm! Watch!" He then proceeded to lift and slowly flex his right arm with no problems at all. "See? Fine." Joan mock-clapped softly while Luke chuckled, shooting a glance at Grace while he did. Grace's eyebrows raised, but she made no comment. Adam, meanwhile, looked quite pleased with himself.

"Okay, Adam, we're convinced," Joan told him a few moments later when he started flexing faster. "Just stop before you –" Adam's sudden wince and small gasp of pain made it apparent she was too late. "– hurt yourself," she finished pointlessly. Before either of the others could even blink, she was right next to him, her delicate hand on his shoulder. "Did it start bleeding again?"

"No," Adam murmured shamefully, rubbing his arm with his left hand gently. "I just strained something, probably."

"You need me to call a nurse or something?" Joan asked as her hand unconsciously drifted down to stoke his bandaged arm.

Joan's touch made Adam respond a bit more sedately this time. "N-no. I'm fine. J-just need to rest it."

Joan realized what she was doing now and withdrew her hand, using it to snatch up the cup of water on the opposite side of Adam's bed. She shoved it in his face hurriedly, trying – and failing – to diffuse the awkward situation. "Here. It'll, uh, make you feel better?" Inwardly, she berated her scatter-brained solution. _Why would water help a strained arm?_ Adam took the cup nevertheless, murmuring an incoherent thank you before downing what was left of the drink in one gulp. It didn't help that Joan could practically feel the inquiring gazes of Luke and Grace digging into her back.

In the end, Adam's apprehensive question brought the group back to reality. "What if they want to keep me longer when they found out I hurt my arm again?"

At this, Luke shook his head. "Never; you said yourself that it's probably just a simple strain – the hospital can't make you stay here too much longer unless you reopened your cut."

Grace eyed him curiously. "Since when were you a medical guru?"

Luke attempted to shrug casually. "I-I've read up a bit in the last few weeks. Just a bit of a hobby, really." He cleared his throat and tried to get the conversation back to Adam and away from himself. "Anyway, you look like you'll be out of here in no time."

Adam scowled. "That's what you guys told me a week ago." The garbled reply Adam received was no reassuring. He moaned. "I'll be stuck here forever."

Joan jumped in to try and save Luke's argument. "No way, Adam. The doctors told you yourself that you're almost ready to go home, didn't they?" No definite reply, but a small doubtful expression told her he'd heard. "That's a lot better than us saying it, and if you can get around on your own there's no real reason for them to keep you here."

"Besides, if they won't let you out, I'll riot," Grace put in helpfully, to which Adam made an annoyed face.

"That didn't work in second grade, and it won't work here," he droned.

Grace countered, "It got you out of the Corner of Silence, didn't it?"

"Yeah, but the school called both of our parents," Adam shot back.

A second later, Grace stated finally, "I still won."

Adam seemed tired of arguing, so he conceded, "Cha, I guess you did."

Luke and Joan, who had been looking on silently, were puzzled beyond belief. "Ever get the feeling you're missing something?" Luke asked his sister.

Joan nodded, nearly laughing at the irony of his question. "All the time."

With the previous tension placated, they had the time to be normal teenagers again.

As normal as the sub-defectives could be, anyway.

* * *

The sky was already a brilliant orange when the trio left the hospital. Mr. Rove would be coming around soon, and Joan had a date with the bookstore that Sammy insisted couldn't be missed. Grace and Luke used this time to depart as well; curiosity of Adam and Joan's odd relationship boiled over and they needed their questions answered. Throughout the entire visit, the two had exchanged looks that seemed to say more than any words ever could. This didn't go unnoticed.

Something about it seemed odd: The last time Grace had spoken with Joan, she'd been adamant about keeping things involving her and Adam hush-hush, yet now the two seemed to have this connection that – dare she think it – was even stronger than their previous one.

Grace was missing something, and she _didn't_ like it.

Joan walked ahead of the two, oblivious to their suspicious looks as she babbled on about…something; neither was paying enough attention to her words to fully understand it.

"How are we going to ask her?" Luke questioned nervously. Grace nearly rolled her eyes. Confronting his sister about her love life – or lack thereof – probably wasn't high up on his 'to do' list.

Grace's answer came in the form of walking faster and stepping to Joan's right. Luke took the hint and took up a place on his sister's left. "So, what's up between you and Rove this week?"

Joan's current jabbering – something about scarves, or some other random topic – died as her throat gummed up and several strangled words were all that came out. She nearly tripped over her own two feet, barely able to keep herself standing. Grace nearly smirked. _Bulls-eye._ Joan finally composed herself and gave a shaky, "Nothing." She expanded, "Why would something be up?"

A collective groan rose from her friends. "Girardi, I know you and Rove well enough to see when something's changed," Grace pointed out. After a beat of silence, she added, "In fact, with the way you two have been lately, a monkey could even tell something was different."

"Actually it's been proved that monkeys are very intelligent and observant animals," Luke put in unsupportively.

Grace shot him an exasperated '_Why-did-you-just-say-that?_' look. "Fine, then, even _Friedman_." Luke looked like he was about to comment on this statement as well, but he suddenly thought better of it and sealed his mouth.

Joan mouthed wordlessly and Grace swore she could see the gears turning in her head. She tried, unsuccessfully, to form several arguments, pausing after the first few words. Finally, she sighed and conceded. "I told him." She fixed Grace with a look, halting abruptly. "Everything."

Grace too stopped, and Luke, by default, did a few moments later. "Everything?"

Joan nodded. "_Everything_."

Did this mean Adam knew whatever deeply-guarded secret their Joan Girardi was keeping? "Everything." Grace repeated numbly. Luke sent her a questioning look, but she didn't answer it. She instead pulled Joan over to the side of the nearby building to talk easier, Luke in their stead. "How'd he take it?" She herself didn't even know what half of 'it' was.

Joan bit her lip. "Not the greatest at first," she admitted. "I wasn't really being fair when I told him. I sort of screamed at him at first." She looked away and her face flushed. "He seemed to be more or less okay in the end, though. I talked to him yesterday and he was, anyway."

"'Yesterday'." Grace's eye brows rose. "When did you tell him, Girardi?"

Joan grinned sheepishly, averting the inquisitive looks she was receiving. "Saturday." She tacked on an unhelpful laugh as the two sets of prying eyes widened. "It all just kind of happened." She glanced at her wristwatch not-so-subtly and added, "Can we walk while we talk, please? Sammy'll have my head if I'm late again."

The walking continued, but the talking didn't. Grace didn't know what was running through her companions' heads, but she was focusing on what would happen next. What exactly did all this mean? Joan and Adam were fine with each other again, it seemed. Okay, so things probably weren't that simple, but it meant they were well on their way to coupling up again. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? Surprisingly, Grace found that she was relieved that the idea was slowly becoming closer to reality again. At least now they wouldn't be at odds all the time, even if they only remained friends.

_And I won't be stuck in the middle again,_ her mind reminded. Whatever happened, Grace had a feeling things would turn out okay, in some odd way.

Joan hastily parted ways with Luke and Grace when they reached a cross-roads for the bookstore and their houses, muttering a quick farewell to Grace and "see you at home" to Luke. Nothing left for the remaining two to do except walk home themselves. Silence continued to reign supreme, but Grace wasn't sure why. Luke seemed to be deep in thought, and she didn't want to interrupt him; most likely he was pondering the situation as she had been earlier.

"Say, Grace?" Finally, the hush ceased. A simple glance told Luke she was listening. "What do you think about…all this?"

"More specific?" Grace requested. "'All this' can mean a lot, you know."

Luke glanced to the side for a moment, hesitant about clarifying his question. "You know… About what Joan told us. What do you think it all means?"

Grace shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I guess it means Adam knows everything about the last two years now, and probably something else about Joan, too."

"Like what?" Luke ventured.

"How am I supposed to know?" Grace replied. "Your sister's a tough puzzle, and I don't even want to try to figure her out."

More silence. "What do you think'll happen now?" Grace's annoyed glance told him to expand. "With Joan and Adam, I mean. Do you think things'll go back to the way they were once he gets his memory back, or will they be…different? Like," Grace found herself amused by a Luke who couldn't figure out what he wanted to say, "Do you think they'll…get back together again?" So _that_ was his concern, huh?

Grace's answer came after a few moments of thinking. "Maybe. All depends on what happens next." Luke seemed oddly uncomfortable after this. "Why? What're you thinking?" She asked inquiringly. It was an odd thing when she couldn't read her "boyfriend"; she didn't like it.

"How do we know things will be different this time?" Luke voiced his concerns in a hurried tone. "What if something happens and they get hurt again?" He had an evasive look in his eyes, but Grace read between the lines and figured out what he was really saying.

"You mean what if Adam cheats on Joan again," she pressed firmly. Luke's silence was enough of an answer for her. "I know Joan's your sister and you're worried about her, but Adam's my best friend –" whenever Grace used first names, it was serious, "– and I'm not going to get in the middle of a fight. _Again_." She turned down the street that led to her house, noticing they'd reached the separating point.

"Grace –" Luke started in a worried tone.

Grace shot a soft look over her shoulder and turned around for a moment. "I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

Luke simply nodded, frowning disconcertedly. He'd figure things out for himself. Grace had enough faith in him to know that.

* * *

Luke _hated_ not knowing the answer to a question, especially when it was one that he wasn't sure of how to find said answer. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling and pondering this latest dilemma. He wanted to like Adam, really he did, but when a guy cheats on one's sister, there's only so far one can go. What if it happened again? He felt like he had to do something, but what? What was he supposed to say, "don't fall for him again because he'll only hurt you"? No conversation could go well if it was based on that notion.

"Hey, brain boy," a knock on the door sill signaled someone was there to see him, and he sat up to see Kevin, unable to go any further because of the stairs. "Where's Joan? She come home with you?"

Luke shook his head dimly. "No. Working late." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up so he could talk to Kevin easier.

Kevin laughed slightly. "That won't make Dad happy. He was going to cook…something – I didn't really hear what, he was too uppity about it – but with Joan working late he'll have to put it off." He sighed. "I better go tell him."

"Kevin, wait," Luke asked, taking a few steps closer to his brother.

"What is it?" Kevin asked quizzically. He'd only just turned his wheelchair when Luke had called out.

"Um… What do you think about Adam losing his memory?" Luke asked lamely, not knowing how to phrase his real question.

Kevin frowned, contemplating the question. "Well, it's horrible. I mean, he doesn't deserve that at all. Why?"

Here came the hard part. "I think this…amnesia's given Joan more time to talk to Adam, and…they seemed really close today." He fidgeted slightly. "What if they're starting over?"

The unspoken anxiety seemed to get through to Kevin and he smiled warily. "We'll have to watch him, then."

"But we didn't see it coming before," Luke countered. He didn't want to say exactly what 'it' was. Kevin knew Adam had hurt Joan, but he didn't know the specifics, and it was better kept that way. "So what if something like that happens again?"

Kevin sighed. "We just need to trust them. We can't tell them how to live their lives, Luke. It doesn't work that way." He shrugged. "I guess we just gotta be content knowing they've grown up or something."

Luke felt like he was a little boy again, pouting over a broken chemistry set. "It's hard."

A sloppy smirk slipped onto Kevin's features. "Yeah, no one said being a brother would be easy. She really _has_ grown up, though, so maybe it'll get easier." He nearly laughed. "You've grown up too, you know, worrying about her like this."

Luke shrugged, trying to force down the rising heat. "Well…she's my sister. I have to." He scrunched up his nose. "And she's weird. It's too hard _not_ to worry about her."

"We had to get a weird one," Kevin agreed, nodding absent-mindedly. "It just makes it harder to watch out for her."

"Yeah." Silence. "She's pretty cool though, in her own…Joan-way."

"Yeah. She is."

* * *

The bookstore was annoyingly quiet the next morning. Sammy insisted Joan keep on going in for her normal rounds, despite her protests that there were no customers – besides the occasional visit from God, of course, but how was she supposed to explain _that_? – and that she had a life outside of the store. All her gripes were proved futile by Sammy's reminder that she'd taken off so many hours for Adam-visiting, though.

"And I thought he had a heart," Joan grumbled, re-checking the selves for the third time that hour. Now that summer was upon them, the last few days had been crazy with work. Apparently Sammy didn't subscribe to the idea that teenagers had lives. Her visits to see Adam had been few and brief, and he was getting more and more discouraged as the days went on, saying if he didn't get out of the hospital soon he'd go crazy. A friend in danger of losing sanity was reason enough to leave early, wasn't it? She ventured a glance at the door. Still no customers. "Maybe…" She started to slink away from the shelves. An early lunch break never hurt anyone, right?

"You still have another twenty minutes on shift, Joan," a familiar omnipresent voice reminded.

Joan turned to see Punk Girl God leaning against the counter, knitting yet another piece of clothing. "You keep showing up so much lately," Joan commented dryly. "Stop. When I need you, I'll ask."

"You know already that I don't come when called for," God chided lightly.

Joan sighed. Her early lunch break was too far gone to save now. "So what now? You want me to knit another scarf? Or maybe upgrade to gloves or something?"

God chuckled and shook Her head. "No, I just want you to do something with the one you've already made."

Joan frowned. "We had a conversation like this a few days ago; I'm doing something with my 'scarf'," she included air-quotes with this word, "and You subtly implied that I finally understood something."

"Not that scarf, Joan," The Great One replied, focusing on Her knitting.

The frown deepened into a scowl. "You need to give me some sort of sign to tell me when You're being literal or metaphorical." She then tossed in, "And what am I supposed to do with a scarf in June?"

"You have to decide that, Joan," God replied, pushing off the counter. "Things hand-made are best shared with others."

"That Your subtle way of saying something else?" Joan asked uselessly as God waved and left the bookstore. "'Things hand-made are best shared with others'," Joan mocked with a snort. "I think I've earned enough brownie points to get something better than _that_." She directed her complaint at the ceiling, knowing full well He could hear her. "Giving a scarf in June… Anyone would think I was crazy!" Suddenly, something clicked into place and a slow smile spread across her face. "Almost anyone."

She had to make a quick run by her house before going to the hospital today.

* * *

Being such a frequent visitor to the hospital, Joan had no trouble zoning out while walking down its halls. With her hands in her bag, she fingered the edges of the scarf idly, trying to wrap her mind around more conversation topics. They'd pretty much exhausted most that came to mind, actually. Maybe they could discuss the possibility of the doctors letting Joan bring in some materials for Adam to tinker with for his art.

A sudden preemptive chill shot up and down Joan's skin as she rounded the corner before Adam's room – there, in all his glory, stood Ryan Hunter. A cool smile spread across his face when he spied Joan, and she strolled right up to him.

"What are _you_ doing here?!" She hissed in a barely controlled voice.

Ryan gasped in mock surprise. "Is that any way to greet your friend's benefactor? You were so behaved last time we met, too." Joan had a sinking suspicion he had figured God told her the truth.

"You can't smooth-talk me anymore, Hunter," Joan warned. "I know what really happened now, and I don't want you coming anywhere near here."

"You could at least put up a bit of an act, you know, so you don't draw attention to yourself," Ryan hummed softly. "You have to have _some_ manners in there," Joan bristled at his superior tone. "After all, someone raised by such a kind mother must know how to be polite."

The retort Joan had been forming in her mind shattered at his last sentence. "M-my mom?" She choked out. "How do you know my mom?"

"I'll be helping with the school board at your high school next year," he replied in a laid-back way. "I took it upon myself to introduce myself to all of the faculty members personally." Before Joan could get in another word, he added, "Not just your mother, though. I've met your father and oldest brother as well – who knew money could get you so many connections?" A challenging gleam danced in his eyes.

"Keep _away_ from my family," Joan snarled defensively, unable to stop a shred of fear from entering her voice. She couldn't figure this guy out; what did she ever do to him? Why did he freak her out so much? "And my friends, too," she added, remembering Adam was merely feet away from them.

"Come now, Joan, did you really think it wouldn't happen?" Ryan berated. "Meeting someone else who talks with Him too?"

Joan took a few moments to collect her thoughts. "What does that have anything to do with this?"

"_Everything_." Ryan smirked. "Don't you get tired of doing every little thing He – or She – says? All those tedious tasks, wasting away your pressure time: You must really hate it after awhile."

Joan still didn't see what God had to do with Ryan getting close to her family. "Good things happen when I do what He wants," she replied simply. "Bad things happen when I don't." A flash of loathing entered her eyes, remembering the reason she disliked Ryan Hunter so much.

"You ever think maybe you'd be better off without His interference?" Questioned Ryan. "Maybe those around would be safer if He didn't ask you to do so much. I have a feeling there have been…casualties since you started talking to Him." His eyes darted to the door behind him and Joan felt fury rising in her throat.

"Don't try and pin this on someone else!" She snapped, barely able to keep her voice down. "It's your fault he's in here!"

For a moment, Ryan looked genuinely remorseful. "I regret not helping your friend, Joan, but had He been more specific maybe I would've."

Joan glared at Ryan harder. "Don't make excuses." If he'd been talking to God as long as he had – or longer – he must've known that all of His suggestions had a reason. "Just leave me and my family and my friends _alone_." She pushed passed him roughly and turned the door handle, only to have his tight grasp on her arm.

She was so focused on it that she didn't notice the door cracked open ever so slightly.

* * *

Adam thumbed his bed-table, his eyes darting from the door to the clock every few moments. Joan had called him earlier to say she'd visit on her lunch break, but she was already fifteen minutes late. She said she'd be driving, so that already cut her arrival time by more than half, so what was holding her up? Maybe he was just being a bit too paranoid.

The creaking door made his ears perk and a smile tug at his lips. He was ready to welcome her with a trademark "Jane", but she didn't walk in. Instead, he heard a male voice talking.

"You actually think you're calling the shots here?" It asked. Adam twisted and peered out the crack in the door to see whoever this man was, he was gripping Joan's arm. He didn't like that. "Oh, you are very mistaken. I've been in this game for a long time and finally having another player makes things interesting." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I never imagined my opponent would be someone like you, but it seems like you've got some spunk. I'm impressed. I'm excited." His lips curled into a smirk that made Adam's blood boil. "I think this is going to be a fair fight, don't you?"

Despite a slight hesitation in her voice, Joan answered with undeniable resolve. "I have a slight advantage; I have God on my side."

The man's deadly smirk grew wider. "Mmm, so far I have the cops, the newspaper, and the school board, and he didn't stop any of that from happening. I think this is going to be the challenge of a lifetime."

Joan stared back, her eyes blazing. "Stay _away_ from my friends and family." She warned. Her tone suggested this wasn't the first time she'd warned this.

Mystery Man leaned in closer, though – too close for Adam's liking. "You should worry about yourself too, Joan, because I'm ready to fight. You'd better be too." A threatening air hung around his words as he pulled away. He sent Joan one last empty smile before turning and walking out of sight.

Joan, meanwhile, visibly shaken, shook her head and shut her eyes before pushing open the door all the way and walking in, a false smile plastered on her face. "A-Adam! Hi!"

Adam wasn't about to let what he saw go. "Jane, who was that guy?" He asked hurriedly.

Shock mixed into Joan eyes, but she pushed it away. "Wh-what guy?" She covered unsuccessfully.

"I saw you outside, Jane," Adam told her in a low tone. "Don't try and brush this off; who was he and why was he saying that stuff to you?"

He had an urging in his eyes that made Joan flinch, but he didn't care. She glanced behind her quickly and shut the door, taking her seat by his bed. "Have you heard of Ryan Hunter?" She asked softly.

This caught Adam off guard. "Uh, yeah, I think so. Dad said he paid for all this," he gestured around with his hands. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Joan stared straight into his eyes and he could tell he wasn't going to like the answer. "The man who was talking to me…_that_ was Ryan Hunter."

"Wh-what?" Adam sputtered. "Why would he do that? And why were you guys talking about…you know…"

"He talks to Him, too, Adam," Joan continued in a shaky voice. "Um, God told me he doesn't listen to Him anymore, and they had some sort of…argument."

"Why does this involve you?" Adam asked, still not fully understanding. "Or me," he added with a thought of his own relation to the enigmatic man.

Joan stayed silent for a nearly half a minute. "God asked him to take a hike in the woods a few weeks ago. He said he wouldn't." Adam's mouth was suddenly dry. That man… _That_ was the reason he was here? "Now he's…getting close to my family and meeting with me, and he says I'm his opponent or something."

"And he threatened you." Adam finished with a dangerous edge.

Joan reached for his hand. "Adam –" She started fretfully.

"No!" He jerked away from her. "This guy – Ryan Hunter – is putting you at risk and, and why? Because you talk to God! What's He doing about this, huh? Why can't _He_ be the one to deal with this?" He glanced at the ceiling as he spoke. "Why can't _He_ stop this?!"

"It doesn't work like that," Joan pressed. "I can't make Him appear or not and wave His hands and make everything better."

"You should be able to!" Adam shot back. "You're getting caught in the middle of something that He dragged you into, and I'm not going to let this guy do something to hurt you, Jane!" His voice was quiet, but it spoke volumes of his resolve. "And I want answers. He's listening, right? So why can't He just come in here and tell us why He's letting Ryan Hunter risk your safety." Adam had already forgotten that he'd been a victim as well.

Joan shook her head steadfastly. "He doesn't answer questions," she seemed to dislike her own words. "He lets us figure them out for ourselves."

"That's stupid!" Adam cried, finally raising his voice. "You've done a lot for Him right?" Joan nodded slowly, probably assuming where he was going. "So why can't He give you something back?"

Before Joan could answer, the door opened and in walked the elderly nurse from weeks before. She hadn't stopped in on him in a long time. She smiled at the two teens and Joan gasped in a garbled tone. "You shouldn't yell like that. Someone will hear you." _Oh, no._ Adam thought. _What if she heard something? Did I just completely blow Joan's secret after only a few days? …Ohhhh. _She shut the door behind her and fixed Adam with a look. "You know, Joan's been asking Me the same question a lot lately. She seems to think she needs a lot of favors, too."

In the back of his mind, Adam knew he should be used to these kinds of surprises, given the last few days, but of course that didn't matter. "Y-you?" He sputtered. "You're…God?"

The Lady nodded. "Yes, Adam, I am."

"But…but You gave me advice," he muttered weakly. "Isn't that against the rules?"

God chuckled. "Joan hasn't explained completely everything, I see."

"I don't know everything," Joan shot back drearily. Adam was shocked to hear her speak in that tone to the Almighty.

Apparently, they both noticed his looks, because God assured him, "You don't have to be so formal with Me, dear. Joan here gave up on that a long time ago and I haven't smote her, now have I?" A twinkle of amusement lit Her eyes, but Adam nearly yelped.

Joan sent a dry look to the Elderly Lady and then turned a comforting one to Adam. "She's joking, Adam. She doesn't _really_ smite people."

"R-right," Adam murmured, feeling very silly. After talking so big, all he could do was cower in his hospital gown. He felt his nerves return and, in a bigger voice than before, declared. "It's not right that You're making Joan face this Ryan Hunter person." _That sounded a lot better in my head. _He continued, "She shouldn't be expected to…to fight him." _A_ lot _better in my head._

God, however, continued to smile. "I don't make people do anything, Adam. It's all their choice."

"But she doesn't have anything to do with this!" Adam retorted. Joan sat silently next to him, choosing to look at the floor instead of one of the people in the room. "He doesn't listen to You, and we all have to pay!"

God walked closer, undaunted by Adam's words. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you, Adam, and to Joan," She nodded briefly in Joan's direction, "but some things I can't change. Some things have to be decided on their own. I can say I know how everything's going to turn out, but no one does, really." She was now right next to the bed. "Everyone has to make their own choices. Everyone."

Adam didn't want to be convinced. "But…we- she doesn't deserve this," he argued weakly.

"I'll be okay, Adam," Joan assured, slipping her hand in his. "I don't know what's gonna happen, but…I'll be okay." She smiled reassuringly. "As I told Ryan, I have Her on my side."

"I would never abandon someone who needs Me, Adam." God added, reaching out and touching his hair. "Have some faith."

Somehow, he suddenly couldn't speak. His throat closed up and all he could get out was a weak "Promise?" that made the two watching him smile.

"I promise." That was all it took. Something in those words put Adam's mind at ease. She wasn't done, though. "You shouldn't try and blame yourself for everything. What happened to your mother was far from your fault, and no one is going to leave you for it." She ruffled his hair, and for a moment it was his mother standing there, smiling down on him. "She misses you."

God turned around and walked off with a simple raise of Her hand. The door shut and Adam realized Joan was holding him, her hand on his head like God's had been. He hadn't reached out for her – she just came. He didn't learn until much later that he had started crying before God's hand had even left his head.

Looking back, he knew that was the moment he was finally at peace.

* * *

Sleep came easier than usual for Adam that night. After his dad left, he fell drifted off as soon as his head hit the pillow. He didn't dream, either. He knew he was sleeping, but there was nothing there – just a black oasis.

When he woke up, however, there was everything.

He saw a lifetime in only moments. He felt waves and waves of emotions. First, he was happy. He was oh so happy. An odd euphoria filled him up, and he smiled, his eyes closed tight. Memories swam back, and his mind reeled with joy. All the "happy times" Joan had talked about surfaced and Adam grabbed on to them, never wanting them to let go. There was happiness.

And then suddenly, all that was left was pain.

* * *

For some reason, Joan woke up especially early the next morning. Her eyes just snapped open and refused to shut again. Naturally, she wanted as much sleep as she could get, but try as she might, she couldn't fall back into slumber. The sun had already risen, so it wasn't terribly early, but it was still much earlier than she had been getting up since school let out.

So, as she sat in the kitchen, eating her cereal, she couldn't help but feel restless. Work wasn't for another few hours, so she couldn't use that to keep her occupied. Luke had drifted out early, probably, Joan grimly thought, to make out with Grace. Her father and Kevin were off working, and her mother was in the garage, apparently painting…something. She wouldn't let Joan take a look until she was finished.

And, even though she hadn't told Adam she would be coming, something was drawing her to the hospital. She didn't like to surprise Adam, especially since she didn't know what time he usually woke up, but this seemed important. With a quick scribbled note and a shout to her mother, she was in the car, driving down to the hospital. Time seemed to creep by as she drove, even though the roads were virtually empty. Despite this, her legs twitched with impatience, and her fingers fidgeted on the steering wheel.

"Miss Girardi, you're early today!" The familiar receptionist remarked, waving her down to Adam's room. Honestly, Joan didn't know why they bothered anymore. They all knew why she was there, and that she knew her way around the hospital – well, that part of the hospital – by heart.

When she walked into Adam's room, she was surprised to be plunged into darkness. The blinds were completely closed, and all other lights were shut off. She warily closed the door behind her and in the few rays that crept though the blinds could make out Adam's silhouette, sitting and hunched on the bed. His hands were wrapped in the sheets, gripping them so tight it seemed they would rip.

"Adam?" She asked curiously. "Why's it all dark in here? Did someone forget to come around?" It wasn't likely, considering Adam had been there for – what, a month now? – but it was still a possibility.

She moved to open the blinds, but Adam's hoarse command stopped her in her tracks. "Don't. I don't want to open them."

Joan was now getting worried. Something seemed off about him. "Adam, what's wrong?" She walked over to him and reached out to touch his shoulder. "You can tell me anythi –"

"Don't touch me!" He all but yelled, tensing up suddenly. Joan jerked her hand away and noticed he was breathing hard. She peered at his face and saw his eyes were wide, darting to every corner of the room – every single corner, but not at her. "D-don't touch me, please… I can't… There's too much. There's just too much, and I can't…I can't get it all in. It _hurts_."

Joan's heart leapt to her throat. "Adam…do you remember me?" Everything froze. "Do you…_really_ remember me?"

For the first time since she walked in, he slowly turned his head and looked straight at her, nodding unsteadily. "I can't close my eyes." He murmured in a frightened voice. "I see you every time I do, and you're so mad at me. I-I can't get it all in order, and I can't tell when it was, but I _know_. I know why. S-so I can't close my eyes, because then it hurts more."

_The court room,_ Joan realized dismally. He looked like he wanted to cry again, but something wouldn't let him. His face was filled with so much panic and fear, and something about him seemed so brittle that he seemed like he would break at any moment. In the two years she had known him, she had never seen him this vulnerable. She reached out again, wanting to comfort him somehow.

"Don't!" He cried again, wrenching his body way from her and colliding with the metal bar on its other side. "I can't! It's all too much. I feel… I feel everything. All at once. It feels so horrible and so wonderful and I just _can't_. All the pain and sadness and happiness and everything and…if you touch me…I don't think I'll be able to control it anymore. I won't be able to control…anything." His eyes begged – _pleaded_ – with her. They wanted something. It wasn't what he was saying.

She gently unlocked the left side's metal bar, pushing it down so she could lean in closer. Adam shook as she did, knowing he was trapped. He didn't pull away anymore, though. There was no other place to go. Just before her hand cupped his cheek, her eyes bore into his and she whispered, "Then don't."

His eyes went even wider and in one swift movement, he blinked them shut, causing small tears to fall on his sheets. His knuckles turned white as they wrapped deeper in the sheets, but then they relaxed. He didn't stop shaking, though, until his lips were on hers.

Adam was the one who moved first, and he was also the one who closed the gap, but Joan reciprocated willingly. She leaned farther on to the bed, moving her other hand to grip his shoulder as his hands wrapped gently around her arms. The hand that had previously been on his cheek was now in his hair, playing idly with its curls. The two broke for a quick breath, and Adam leaned closer, no longer on the opposite side of the bed. Neither opened their mouth to intensify the kiss, but it was just as well; the passion already existed. Nothing else needed to be done.

The next breath they took meant the end of the sudden kiss. Both opened their eyes and pulled away ever so slightly. Adam was crying fully, just like the day before, but this time he was smiling too. He started shaking again, but as his smile grew, Joan knew it was good.

"Jane," he breathed. He reached out and embraced her, burying his head in her neck. In some way, she knew he was still smiling. She wrapped her arms around him as well, and was reminded of the other two times that they'd fallen into this position. Something was different about this final time, though.

This time, Adam was holding her with both arms.

* * *

The abrupt return of Adam's memory was all the hospital needed to discharge him. Within two days, he was living at home again. He was given crutches and told to wrap his right arm in gauze for the next week. He couldn't perform any physical activity with it, either, in fear of his gash opening up again. Sleeping arrangements were a bit of a problem, for his bed was on the second floor and the living room was nearly impossible to move through, but his dad moved his art in the shed – carefully, of course – and made the sofa there easy to sleep on and easy to get to. That would be his bed for the next two weeks.

Due to all the rushing around and re-arranging, Joan couldn't see Adam again until three days after his discharge – five days after his memory had returned. Joan was hesitant about going, especially considering their last meeting, but Grace gently assured her if she didn't see Adam, she would personally break _both_ of her legs. That lit the much needed fire under her behind, and she soon found herself poking her head into the shed.

As anyone would have predicted, Adam was sitting on his sofa/bed, tinkering with a clothes hanger. He appeared to be trying to bend it without using his welder, as the tool was discarded on his work table. Joan coughed lightly, just loud enough to be heard, and Adam looked up from his work. An awkward smile spread across his face, almost as if it didn't want to be there. "J-Jane. Hi." She still stood half in the shed, half out, and he swiftly added, "Come on in."

She stood near him, leaning on his work table. She didn't dare sit down, especially when the knowledge that the sofa was now his bed drifted back. She didn't expect anything like _that_ to almost happen again, but her mind was back to jumping around at the possibility and her skin shuddered when she thought about him. It was like they had only just met, and she was falling for him all over again.

Maybe that was what God meant when She told her to "accept" what had happened.

It was then that she realized she'd been staring at him for the past five minutes, and started to ask a question – most likely a stupid one, like "are you feeling better?" – but Adam got to it first.

"I-I'm sorry for what happened," he mumbled, fidgeting with the hanger. "I shouldn't have, uh, kissed you, especially since I knew where we stood on…us." The entire sentence was awkward and forced. "I took advantage of it, and…it was wrong."

Joan was flabbergasted. _"Wrong"?_ She frowned and shook her head. "You don't have to apologize, Adam. It was a bit…sudden, but," her face turned red and she rolled her eyes to the ground, "I don't regret it."

A wave seemed to pass through Adam's body and a nervous smile crept on to his features. "R-really?"

"Yeah." Joan chuckled apprehensively. "I said we'd take us one step at a time, and…that step's still a little far off, but…it was…good. A-and right." She didn't think she could sound stupider, but the explanation worked for Adam too, so that was fine. She noticed he was still messing with the hanger, and she offered, "Do you need any help with that? I could hold something, maybe?"

Adam's shaky smile spread. "Cha, here." He handed her a hanger he'd already unraveled. "Just, uh, hold this here, and I'll wrap mine around it." Joan didn't fully understand what he was doing – nothing Adam made was finished overnight – but she did as he asked, moving when he requested it, and tilting what she held when he told her to. He eventually put the…thing down, saying he'd work on it later. "I need the welder for the rest," he told her. He noticed she was still standing and scooted over. "Do you want to sit down?"

She couldn't say no. She sat, her bag at her feet, and asked uncertainly, "Did I make a good assistant?" Her mind flashed back to when Adam had hired Stevie to be his assistant because Joan hadn't been available. God-work, of course.

"Unchallenged!" Adam assured her. "You did great." They both knew it was only a simple task, but it made her feel better, so she smiled. They moved from one uncomfortable topic to another, though, as Adam sobered up and mumbled, "I remember how it happened."

Not for the first time, Joan was confused. "'It'…?" She mentally begged for clarification.

"The accident." Joan tensed. "I fell, just like they said." She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. A part of her feared the "accident" wasn't as such, and that he'd intended something much worse to have happened. Knowing this wasn't true put her mind at ease. Adam continued, not commenting on her relieved action. "I'd heard people calling for me a while before, and I found the cliff. I was at the top, and I could just make out a…a light, I think. There wasn't closer way to the light, so I started to climb down." He made a face. "I was stupid. It was all covered in water and I was getting even more soaked. I almost slipped a few times." He frowned in concentration. "I heard something coming – a boulder –, but I just couldn't recognize it in time. When I did, it was almost too late. I moved, but too quickly, and I slipped. I was able to grab on again, but the rocks slashed my arm.

"I held on to the cliff and didn't move because of my arm. I didn't even think about any more rocks falling." He grimaced as he retold the next part. "Another boulder came, and this time I couldn't grab back on in time." A shudder ran through his body and spread to Joan's. "I remember…while I was falling…I called your name."

That horrifying night drifted back to Joan, and a single moment stood out.

_Joan's head whipped around as a distant voice seemed to call out to her. She could've sworn she heard a usually quiet voice yell, "Jane" and her breath caught in her throat._

"That was you," She breathed.

If he heard what she said, he didn't acknowledge it. "I think I hit my head first, but I tried to move so my legs did. It was…not the right thing to do," he grimaced, glancing at his left leg. "I don't remember feeling any pain, though. I'm not sure why, but…nothing comes. The next thing I knew…I was hearing your voice."

Joan didn't know what to say. What _could_ she say? She knew he wanted to get back, and that the accident really was just…an accident, but there was one thing bugging her. "Why'd you go up there in the first place, Adam?" She glanced around nervously. "Was it because…you wanted to…?"

"What?" Adam asked, not getting what she was implying.

"Y-you know," Joan mumbled, not really wanting to say what she was thinking.

His eyes widened. "No. No, no, of course not. I just tryin' to get some time to myself, and I… I could never do that to you, Jane." He looked away, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much this was hurting you."

Joan touched his shoulder to make him look back. "You're okay, though. That makes things better." She smiled encouragingly, one that he couldn't fully return. So, she used this opportunity to lean down and dig through her bad.

"Jane…?"

She didn't answer Adam's unspoken question, but instead withdrew her finished scarf. She wrapped it around his neck and said, "So you don't freeze…incase you ever get lost again."

He stared at the scarf and touched its ends, running them through his fingers. "You made this? For me?"

"Well, at the time I didn't know what it was for," Joan admitted. "God told me to knit it to teach me this lesson about scarves and yarn and connections and stuff." Adam's face was the definition of confusion. "It's a very complicated lesson." Joan sighed exasperatedly. "But I continued knitting it when I was waiting for you to wake up, and God told me to do something with it, so I thought the best thing was to…give it to you." She laughed shyly. "We're connected in another way now, I guess."

A smile finally reached Adam's lips and he pulled the scarf closer. "Yeah." All the while, his hand sunk back down and wrapped around hers.

Joan liked how this was going. They'd just keep on taking things one step at a time. Step by step, stitch by stitch.

**End of Act IV**

* * *

A/N: Sorry for posting this act late in the day. Heck, it's probably already Tuesday in some places. The only way to say this is I procrastinated. That's all. I got a little full of myself after completing the last incredibly-hard-to-write act and I put this one off. I feel so stupid for doing that ;headdesk; but it's up now, right? I nearly didn't include the last scene so I could get it up earlier, but I'm sure none of you would've liked that.

And why would I not have included it? Because you all get an epilogue tomorrow. Yes, it WILL come tomorrow, and it WILL come at a reasonable time, unlike this one. So, give me your comments on this act (please, please, please), and wait for the short little epilogue. Then I can truly say Reversing the Stitches is over.

Oh, and thanks to TeeJay for the inspiration for the shed scene. Thank her – she gave me the idea to do it.

Digital-Dragon-Master

"Digi-Dragon"

(Ashley)


	5. One More Final Finished Product

Author's Notes: Okay. Here it is. The last part. For real. _Now_ I can truly say how floored I am that I finished a story – and in less than a month, too. This is the first time I've ever done that with a chapter story, and I'm thrilled that _Reversing the Stitches_ has the honor. Looking back, I see that the last few lines of act VI would've been so much better for this final mini-act, but it's too late now. Oh well.

Huge shout-out-thanks to the encouraging members of the Chris-Marquette dot com Message Boards – all of you guys are awesome and wonderful. Thanks for welcoming me into the fold. Thanks to all my reviewers, too! I was very self-conscious going into this story, so every person helped. I'm pleased that you all like this.

So, you all don't want to hear me talking again, huh? I'll just get right down to it: Here's the last act of _Reversing the Stitches_.

Disclaimer: I own nothing….Seriously, I can't think of anything witty to say anymore. Just read.

* * *

_ONE MORE FINAL: I need you._

**Reversing the Stitches**

Finished Product

Time passed slowly for the next few weeks. So slowly, in fact, that Joan was amazed that she was sitting on a bench in the park instead of in Adam's shed. She was also surprised that Adam had left his crutches at home. Joan had admonished him when she first saw, but he assured her he wasn't planning on running around.

Seven weeks had passed since that fateful morning, yet when Joan closed her eyes she could still see Adam's broken body at the bottom of the cliff, a fact she'd not-too-comfortably shared with him only a few days ago. Adam admitted he still vividly remembered himself falling, so on that sense they were even. Despite the obvious problems that should've revived, every time the subject of Bonnie or God came up, they just talked. Not all of it was easy talk, of course, but it wasn't shouting, and for that both were thankful. Adam confided that he felt like he could tell her anything now, and for some reason Joan felt the same.

Adam was out of his cast and able to walk again after two weeks away from the hospital, but he was advised to use crutches when going long distances, and forbidden from exerting any physical strain. He insisted he could walk without the crutches, yet he still used them to appease his dad and friends. Today, however, he decided to try for a day without them. He knew this worried Joan, but he had to get back into the habit of walking on his own again soon, especially after weeks and weeks in a hospital. He'd been the one to suggest they start meeting in the park, mostly so he could get in all the fresh air possible. This was one of the first times, as well. Usually, Luke and Grace would come too, sometimes brining Friedman or Glynis or both, but not today; today was Saturday, and that day was reserved for Adam and Joan.

Today was also…well, _boring_. Being unable to walk much meant Adam was very dull company. At least, that's what he thought. In his shed, he'd partly work on a project of his, and Joan would kindly be his "assistant", handing him things he couldn't reach or holding parts that would put him in an awkward position. Then, they'd talk until she had to go home. Adam had been looking forward to getting out and around so much that he forgot most things in the park required movement. It wasn't like with Joan's brother Kevin, who could roll around and adapt with his wheelchair; no, Adam was forced to either use the currently-absent crutches or his own slow-moving legs. He berated himself for not thinking of this in advance, for now the two were just sitting, watching children play or teenagers throw around Frisbees and baseballs.

"I'm sorry, Jane," Adam groaned with a sigh. "It must be really boring, huh?"

"N-no!" Joan said far too quickly. "Of course not!" Her disingenuous grin lasted about a second before sinking into a sheepish one. "Well, maybe a little." Upon seeing Adam's disheartened face, she swiftly added, "It's not _your_ fault, though! You can't help it, right?"

Adam shrugged half-heartedly, probably for her benefit more than anything. "Cha, I guess." One thing that had changed since Adam's returned memory was he started using 'Cha' and 'Unchallenged' again. A sort of innocence returned with them, one that both of them had missed.

Joan beamed. "Good. We can talk, then." Talking wasn't bad, really. It was, after all, what they spent the majority of their time doing. Joan liked explaining all the tasks God had given her and Adam enjoyed listening – it put a new prospective on the last two years. "You remember when I joined the chorus for the musical, right? _For the Love of Zombies_?" She thought that was the final title for it.

Adam nodded adamantly. "Cha, of course! I got the build the set and everything fell apart, and then you sang a beautiful song! Why're you bringing it up now, though?" She sent him a knowing smile and his mouth dropped open. "You don't mean- that _too_, Jane?!"

Joan nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "Yep!" She lowered her voice and glanced about. "And you'll never guess who God was that time."

Adam tilted his head. "I met Him?"

"Oh, more than met him." A glint of amusement danced in Joan's eyes. "He employed you."

Realization dawned on Adam's face. "Johnny Broadway?"

"Johnny _God_way." Joan corrected, nearly giggling at his startled face. "It surprised me too."

When Adam finally got over his shock, he asked, "Isn't that breaking some kind of rule? He wasn't suggesting- he was _directing_!"

Joan shrugged. "It's best not to ask- He'd probably give some sort of cryptically complicated response." Adam was suddenly frowning. "What's wrong?"

"I…I thought He was weird," He admitted begrudgingly. "Is that a bad thing?"

Joan laughed. "No, no, it's fine. I think He's weird all the time." All of a sudden, her face turned sour. "Oh, no. Not _now_." She was looking passed Adam and he turned his head to see a teenage boy in a corduroy jacket leaning against a tree, looking at the both of them. An odd ominous feeling surrounded him, especially when he smiled.

It took Adam a moment to realize Who it was. "That him?" He asked incredulously.

Joan sighed. That was all the answer he needed. "I'll be right back. He wants to talk to me, I know it."

An annoyed _now?_ ran through Adam's mind, but he kept silent, just nodding and gesturing. "I'll still be here."

Joan smiled unenthusiastically, her jaded expression returning as she walked over to the Almighty. He stayed against the tree, not even moving to meet her. "Could you choose a worse time?" She asked rhetorically. "I _like_ my time with Adam. Come when I have to do chores."

The Cute Boy God avatar smirked. "I come when I want to, Joan. I thought you'd have caught on to that by now." A teasing gleam shone in his eyes. With anyone else, Joan would've lightened up, even if it was another version of God. With this avatar, however, she only got more sarcastic; it was her way of showing she was listening.

"Yes, well, You know me: I like asking. I'm an overachiever." Joan cut to the chase. "So what are you doing here? I was just telling Adam about you being Johnny Broadway and I would like to get back to it." God gave her a look that just screamed, _Omniscience, Joan,_ but she got there first. "Yes, I _know_ You know everything, just humor me!"

God put up His hands in a mock defensive gesture. "Alright. I won't say anything." Oh, that just made her more annoyed. "I was only here to see if _you_ wanted to say anything, but if you're giving that up –" He slowly began to turn, and even though she knew He wouldn't really leave, Joan groaned.

"Okay, okay." His lips curled into a Cheshire grin and He looked at her pointedly. Was there anything she wanted to ask? Anything He had a chance of answering? There was one thing, but it was a bit of a chancy question. "What would've happened if Ryan had listened to You?" She inquired softly.

God made an uncomfortable face, as if He was having a hard time deciding on the answer. "I don't deal in 'What ifs', Joan." He said gently.

Joan wasn't giving up, though. "Can I at least have some kind of answer?" She pleaded. "Even if it's one of those obscure ones I hate?"

He took another moment of thinking and responded carefully, "Much of what came from the accident…would not have happened in the way it did."

Joan frowned, trying to read deeper into the meeting. "So You're saying Adam and I would've started drifting back together if he hadn't gotten hurt too?"

God had a wonderful poker face. Joan hated that. "I gave you what I could. Live in the here, the now. Don't try and think about what could've happened. What's done is done. Just keep on taking it one stitch at a time."

A half-snort escaped Joan's nose. "I thought we were done with the scarf metaphor."

"You let me use the ripples one." He commented casually.

"The ripples make sense," Joan replied in a tone of speaking to a small child. "The scarf makes my head hurt."

His face lit up with a smirk. "It _was_ one of my better ones."

"More like confusing," muttered Joan. God didn't give any sign that He heard her, even though she _knew_ He did. She decided to change the subject. "Hey, what about Ryan Hunter? Why hasn't he made any moves or something? I thought he wanted to…fight me or something."

The answer didn't please Joan. "He'll advance when he thinks the time is right. You just have to be prepared for what that advance will bring."

Joan scowled. "Is this what you were giving me strength for? A…spiritual battle?" All of a sudden she found herself getting angry. She had _not_ signed up for anything like that. "I can't do anything like that! I'm just a catalyst, remember? The true nature? Yeah, sparking some chain reaction isn't going to get this guy off my back." Joan took a step forward and half-hissed, "The other Joan had an army. Where's _my_ army?!"

He remained silent, but glanced over at Adam with a knowing look. "I gave you everything you needed. Everyone you needed."

Joan blinked dubiously. "…Adam?"

God just smiled. "And others." Joan tried to ask another question, but He held up His hand. "All in due time. For now, just relax. You've earned it."

"No random assignments or messages?" Joan asked in a small voice.

"No, Joan. Enjoy your summer – you've earned it." God replied subtly.

A wide smile couldn't help but slip on to her face. "Thank You." He again didn't reply. This time, Joan didn't mind. She added in a firm tone, "This doesn't mean You're off the hook for all this Ryan Hunter business. I'm still going to bug You about him."

"And I'm still going to be cryptic and mysterious, just like you hate." There was that snippy tone again. It was odd and slightly disturbing that Joan partly enjoyed it. "Go on. He's waiting."

Joan stepped away and walked back towards Adam. Before she got too far away, she put _her_ hand up this time in her own rendition of the backwards wave. She giggled and turned her head around with a sheepish smile. "Now I know why you like doing that so much. It's so…fun." The Boy merely nodded – she knew she could leave now.

Upon reaching the bench, Joan was surprised – pleasantly surprised – to see Adam scowling slightly at Cute Boy God. She tried to hold back a laugh when he looked up at her and asked, "Does He have to look like _that_?"

Joan shrugged in an attempt to be casual. "It _was_ the first form I saw Him in." This answer didn't cheer Adam up in the least.

"He could at least try to stay conspicuous," He half-grumbled.

Putting a hand on Adam's shoulder, Joan told him straightly, "He's God, Adam. Nothing will ever happen. It would be gross." Adam allowed a small smile. Something about it filled Joan up with such a simple happiness. Before logic could take hold again, she leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. It lasted not even a second, but poor Adam was frozen and red-faced when it was over. Hiding her own blush, Joan then pulled him to his feet, steadying him as she did. "Let's get something to eat; it's not everyday I have off from work."

"S-sure!" Adam agreed, glancing away with a nervous smile.

"Ice cream?"

"Unchallenged! …Uh, Jane, you don't have to keep holding my hand. I can, um, walk on my own."

"Liar. You almost fell over the other day. You had to grab on to _Luke_."

"I-I tripped! I didn't see the root!"

"It was in your own front yard. Face it Adam – you're a klutz."

"So says the girl who got her foot stuck in the washing machine."

"… That was nearly intentional."

_God remained on the tree, watching them silently. The coming weeks would prove hard for His catalyst, but He had faith in her. She had all she needed to overcome her latest challenge. She had the ability to do so, and she had the drive. The day would come that she wouldn't even need Him anymore._

_But until that day, He would watch, and He would help, even if it was in a cryptic and mysterious way._

_And even after that day, she would still have help. _

His eyes fixed on the half-stumbling boy behind her.

_She would have all the help she would ever need._

* * *

**End of **_**Reversing the Stitches**_

A/N: …Wow. Yeah, I've pretty much said all I wanted to.

I just will add, I wanted to use Joan's "Where's my army?" line in its entirety, but the situation couldn't present itself. Oh well. I used it in some form.

Now, I have a little bit of a light note to leave you all with. I got inspiration the extra act-name ("One More Final") from a favorite anime movie of mine, and if you can guess which I'll…I dunno…write a drabble for you or something (why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?). No wikipedia (I trust everyone to be honest). I give one hint: It has strong religious overtones (gee, probably gave it away now).

And with that…farewell.

Digital-Dragon-Master

"Digi-Dragon"

GoddessofVictory

"Goddess-Chan"

Cagalli

"That Cute Chibi Girl"

Evil Empress Alchemist

"EEA"

Ash-twee

"Creepy Chibi Girl"

Dragon Ninja

"Licenseplate Head"

Monofied Midget

"Mono-Chan"

Pen-Pen

"Title Whore"

Titanic on Legs

"Quote Fountain"

(Ashley)


End file.
